


Mania

by Helenatrix



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, M/M, More tags to be added, Post GPF, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Yuuri moves to Russia, character backstory, competitions, man buns, or trying to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-25 02:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenatrix/pseuds/Helenatrix
Summary: After the GPF, Yuuri and Viktor have to decide how to move forward, and with Nationals, Four Continents and Worlds on the horizon, Yuuri Katsuki moves to Russia to be with his coach and compete at his side.But there's a darkness surrounding Viktor's past, and a stranger with a pretty face who threatens their future together.Now, as competitions and obstacles loom in front of them, they have to face the challenges that will inevitably strive to tear them apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooooo friends! 
> 
> So this is my first foray into the YOI fandom but I couldn't be more excited! SNK has been giving me all kinds of angst so here I go - giving out angst like it's candy. 
> 
> This fic will be approximately 7 chapters long and its set after Season 1. I know the movie is coming out soon - and possibly season 2?!? So this will eventually become NOT canon. I'm going to try to get it all out before that happens. 
> 
> I do have to warn - this fic will have some nastiness a little later on. Some rape/non-con elements. If that's not your thing, just pass this one by. But I don't imagine it will be too graphic. 
> 
> I'm also delving deeply into Yuuri's subconscious and exploring themes like anxiety and depression. As someone who suffers from sometimes crippling anxiety, I'm hoping I can accurately portray what it's like navigating the waters of a new relationship for someone like me. And Yuuri too :)
> 
> I'm going to try to post once a week - want to beat the movie and season 2 :)

Nothing could shake this feeling. This exuberant, joyful feeling of excitement that seemed to color everything in a faint rose-gold glow. Yuuri Katsuki had won a silver medal in this year’s Grand Prix Final. And more than that, he had done it all with Viktor Nikiforov by his side, as his coach. The thought brought a flush to Yuuri’s cheeks. It couldn’t be real. No way this could be real.

But as Viktor’s lithe, thin arms snaked around his waist, the reality of it all become too much to deny. It was real. It was all real. Warm, soft lips on the back of his neck brought everything back into startling clarity. “Viktor!” he gasped in surprise.

Alone with Viktor in their hotel room in Barcelona, Yuuri felt emboldened by the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, by his own admission of desire to stay in competitive figure skating with Viktor...forever, if possible. As he turned to face his coach, Yuuri could see that Viktor’s cheeks were tinged with pink, a slight flush that had blossomed over his porcelain skin, making him look even more beautiful than normal...if that was even possible.

“Yuuuuuuurrrrri…” he purred, leaning in to bury his face in Yuuri’s neck. “Let’s not leave this room for the next week. Let’s just stay in and enjoy one another...”

It was Yuuri’s turn to flush as Viktor’s lips pressed to his throat, grazing his jawline with increasing intensity as Vikor kissed a path to his clavicle.

“Viktor…” he struggled to get the words out as arousal spread through his body like a current of warmth. “The banquet…”

“Mmm…” Viktor’s hands were winding into his hair, tugging and raking through his dark locks. It was the closest they had been since the Cup of China...when Viktor had surprised him with the most intimate of gestures in the most public way possible. Since then, their touches had been chaste and short lived, though heady and electric, and always tinged with desire.

But now, after this victory, there was nothing holding them back.

Yuuri craved that touch, the feeling of Viktor’s skin on his own. He knew Viktor craved the same thing. After weeks of being close, but not close enough, their desire for one another was potent and all-consuming, as inevitable as the crashing of waves upon the shore. Even still though, there was a part of Yuuri that was hesitant, frightened even, of being too close to this man. This man who could so easily shatter him to pieces. This man who was so blissfully unaware of his own power to do so.

It took every ounce of his strength to pull away from Viktor’s inviting embrace. “”I...I need to shower.”

Viktor smirked, a thin silver eyebrow hiked suggestively. “May I join you?”

A spike of heat shot straight from Yuuri’s groin to his already hot cheeks. He had seen Viktor naked many times before but somehow, after being riled by those lips that had pressed kisses to his neck, and being tempted by that body that had been firmly pressed against his own, the thought of showering with Viktor caused a wave of anxiety to surge through Yuuri. Just when he had thought himself invulnerable from victory. He should have known better.

“No!” Viktor’s face fell slightly at his rejection and Yuuri immediately kicked himself for his own ridiculous fears. As it had often been before, the worry and trepidation he experienced was a wall built between them, keeping them separate despite their longing for one another.  “Sorry...it’s just...don’t you have to change? Fix your hair?”

Viktor smiled and nodded, though his eyes seemed distant and somehow sad. “Of course. Whatever you want, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, incredibly disappointed in himself.

 

* * *

 

Dressed in the new gray suit Viktor had insisted on buying for him, Yuuri felt surprisingly...different. Unlike himself. With his hair slicked back in a similar style to that which he wore on the ice, and his glasses set in place over the bridge of his nose, Yuuri looked almost unrecognizable. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Viktor’s sea blue eyes aligned with his own for a moment of electric tension.

“Yuuri...you’re stunning.” Yuuri registered the compliment, but was too busy soaking in Viktor’s slim form enveloped in the snug fabric of own his black suit to respond. Every time seeing Viktor was like the first time...it sounded so cliche but Yuuri couldn’t deny the truth of it. Viktor Nikiforov was breathtaking, in every sense of the word.  That he could possibly want Yuuri...it felt like a daydream, one of Yuuri’s early morning fantasies when staring up at the posters that had adorned the walls of his childhood bedroom.

Viktor was on his feet, approaching slowly, as if afraid his sudden movements might cause Yuuri to withdraw in alarm. He held out his hand, a small smile playing on his handsome face. Yuuri’s heart tripled its pace as he met Viktor’s outstretched arm, entwining his own finger’s with his coach’s. “Shall we be going?” Viktor’s voice was smooth and low. His eyelashes fluttered as he stared at Yuuri expectantly.

All Yuuri could do was nod his acquiescence.  


* * *

 

It was strange to Yuuri, to consider the difference in his own feelings from last year to this one, as he entered the banquet hall. Instead of the dread and embarrassment he felt last year in Sochi, he now felt dread and a twinge of _pride_ . It was a strange dichotomy of emotions. With Viktor at his side, and a silver medal around his neck, Yuuri didn’t have much to be _embarrassed_ about. Still though, social situations had never been, and never would be, his strong suit.

Viktor, however, looked at ease and completely in his element. He greeted the curious eyes that settled over him with a genial smile and wave. Looking out into the crowd of familiar faces, Yuuri felt a wave of anxiety seeing the other skaters intermingling, socializing with poise and grace. He cursed his own awkwardness until Viktor smoothly slipped his own hand in Yuuri’s, settling his heart and his anxiety all at once. With Viktor by his side, Yuuri realized, he could breathe more easily. With Viktor, everything was different.

As they made their way into the room, Yuuri waved at Phichit and noticed Chris’s wink and smile directed his way.

“Would you like some champagne, my Yuuri?” Viktor asked and Yuuri scowled. “Just something to take the edge off, hmm? I can see you’re tense.”

“No...no thank you,” Yuuri managed to sputter and Viktor smiled.  

“Oh come on, my Yuuri. We should celebrate!” When Yuuri again vigorously shook his head, Viktor pouted, jutting out his lower lip and looping a slender arm around Yuuri’s waist. “Fine then,” he whined emphatically. “ I’m going to get a drink. One of us deserves to have a good time after our victory tonight.” To Yuuri’s surprise, Viktor leaned in and planted a light kiss on his cheek before making his way to the champagne table.

Left alone, Yuuri folded his arms over his chest. To his relief, he noticed Phichit make his way over to him, smiling brightly and waving. Thank god for Phichit.

“Yuuri! Congratulations! You were amazing!” Phichit wrapped him up in a hug before Yuuri could protest. “You’re living your dream!” His voice was an excited squeak and Yuuri appreciated his exuberance. Phichit was a true friend, always had been. His happiness for Yuuri was pure and true, even with his own placement in 6th.

“You were amazing too, Phichit!” Yuuri blushed and Phichit clapped a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Not as amazing as you! You’re like a different person this year! Have you…have you decided what you’re going to do now?” His big brown eyes were wide and imploring, almost hopeful. Yuuri knew that Phichit, much like Viktor, was not ready to see an end to Yuuri’s skating career.

“I’m going to keep skating. At least for another year.”

“Yuuri! That’s fantastic!” Phichit’s voice cut over the dull roar of conversations, drawing more attention than Yuuri would have wanted.

“Shh…Phichit…” Yuuri attempted to quiet his friend but Phichit was nearly bouncing in excitement where he stood.

“So...you’ll be going to Japanese Nationals? And that means...4 Continents! And Worlds! Oh Yuuri! But...what about Viktor?”

Yuuri sunk into himself. _What about Viktor?_ “He’s coming back. He’s planning on participating in Russian Nationals.”

It was true, though they’d barely discussed it. Russian Nationals and Japanese Nationals were at the same time...and Viktor couldn’t be two places at once. What that meant for their future was...uncertain. And Yuuri could tell by the look of solemnity on Phichit’s face that he understood that as well.

“So... won’t be able to come and support you…” Phichit’s eyes had dulled, his smile had dropped into an expression of concern...of pity. Yuuri scowled.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. We’ve done it before.” _And how did that turn out?_ He almost hadn’t made it to the GPF. But it wouldn’t be like that again. Couldn’t be like that again.

“Yea, of course, Yuuri. You’ll be perfect! You can find another coach! Maybe Celestino! I’m sure he would be open to it! And then you and Viktor can compete together!” Phichit’s positivity was overwhelming sometimes. He didn’t understand. There was no way he could know Viktor’s plan...to stay on as Yuuri’s coach while competing himself. Of course Phichit wouldn’t know that. Because Viktor’s plan was career suicide. Yuuri was dooming Viktor’s career…

Slowly, ever so slowly, anxiety began to creep into Yuuri’s mind, darkening his happiness and pride like a storm cloud of emotion and dread.

“Yuuri! Snap out of it!” Phichit put a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Whatever you and Viktor decide is the _right_ decision. I’ve never seen either of you so happy. Viktor’s like...a new person. Look at him.”

Yuuri did, his eyes immediately scanning the crowd for the tall, silver-haired skater and spotting him easily.  Viktor was in the center of the room, surrounded by competitors and sponsors alike, all waiting for their chance to talk to him. But at Yuuri’s glance, Viktor looked up and smiled, his eyes connecting meaningfully with Yuuri’s own.

“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night,” Phichit smirked, elbowing Yuuri gently. “Just try not to worry, ok? I know you. And I know you’re overthinking things. So, try to keep perspective. Everything’s different now. But that’s a good thing. So just let it be good. Ok?”

Yuuri felt himself let out a breath of relief. He smiled at his friend, feeling the weight of those words resound in his head. “Thank you, Phichit.”

“Of course!” Phichit said with a large smile. “I’m going to go get some champagne. Do you want any?” When Yuuri shook his head, Phichit nodded. “Ok. Have a good night, Yuuri! Come find me in a little bit for a selfie!”

As Phichit disappeared into the fray of bodies, Yuuri caught his own breath. _Just let it be good. Just let it be good._ Phichit was right. Everything was good. His dreams were on the verge of coming true. So he needed to just let it be good. Embrace it. Live in the moment. And let the moment be good.

“Well I’ll be damned if that ass doesn’t look absolutely ravishing tonight.” Chris’s voice in his ear nearly shot Yuuri straight into the air with bright pink cheeks. He shouldn’t have been surprised  to feel a warm hand clasp firmly over his left buttock, but still, the shock of the unwanted touch caused him to cry out and pull away with vehemence.

“Chris!” Yuuri gasped, his voice a high and mewling squeak.

Chris chuckled, sidling closer. “Hi there, Silver Medalist! I suppose some congratulations are in order. But we’re not just celebrating your performance on the ice, are we? You’re now a happily engaged man!”

Yuuri’s eyes once again settled on Viktor’s graceful form as it made its way through the crowd of skaters and sponsors. Viktor was at his best among people, Yuuri knew. He was nodding and conversing, looking the absolute picture of poise and ease. He was so beautiful. God, Yuuri was lucky...How did he get so lucky?

“You sure did put on a performance, didn’t you?” Chris reflected, his bright green eyes assessing Yuuri over his champagne flute. “You’d have to have...to get someone like Viktor to fall head over heels for you. But then, he always did love himself more than anyone else, didn’t he?”

At that, Yuuri’s eyes shot back to Chris’s. “What do you mean by that?” he snapped.

“Viktor...falling in love with his number one fan. It seems obvious, really. He’ll be marrying the human personification of his fan club.” At that, Chris took a heavy slug of the champagne in his hand.

Yuuri’s eyes were huge, wide orbs. His heart was pounding in his chest. But he couldn’t seem to form the words for a retort. And slowly, Chris’s words were settling themselves deeply into Yuuri’s ever churning brain.

Chris seemed to notice the turmoil winding itself around Yuuri’s mind. Snaking a hand around Yuuri’s shoulders, Chris pulled Yuuri closer to whisper in his ear. “Hey, don’t fret about it, Katsuki. It’s just Viktor’s nature. He feeds off that kind of adoration. Just look at him now. Mingling, schmoozing, _entertaining_. Viktor needs someone that worships him. Otherwise he’d get bored. Hell, that’s why it would never have worked out between him and I. I respect myself too much to worship the ground Viktor Nikiforov walks on. But you, Yuuri. You’re the perfect man for Viktor.”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. It was as if he had been punched in the gut, had had the wind knocked out of him. Chris chuckled again before slapping Yuuri’s backside and sauntering away.

Yuuri couldn’t turn his eyes away from Viktor. Was it possible? Were Viktor’s feelings only a manifestation of his own desire to be loved, revered, worshipped? Was he only playing along with Yuuri’s obsession because it was just that...an obsession? Was Viktor enamored with the thought of what Yuuri’s love meant? Had this entire affair just been Viktor indulging in Yuuri’s fantasies because of the pleasure it brought him?

Yuuri felt himself dissolving into anxiety, felt his past fears rearing their ugly heads. It was as if, in only a few moments of Chris’s thoughtless words, all of Viktor’s training and coaching and confidence boosting was completely undone.

Yuuri felt he couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of there, had to get some air. All at once, the collar of his dress shirt was choking him. He was hot and cold. He didn’t look for Viktor, didn’t say a word, before turning and hurrying out the door.

Once outside, standing in the fresh, freezing cold air, Yuuri struggled to breathe, to wrap his head around what Chris had just said. Could it be true? He looked back on all his past interactions with Viktor. Viktor’s words of encouragement. His adoring eyes. His praise.

Viktor wanted Yuuri to succeed. He wanted Yuuri to keep skating, to skate alongside him. He was proud of Yuuri for what he had achieved. Surely Viktor liked Yuuri for who he was...and not for his hero worship of Viktor himself? Right? _Right?_

“My Yuuri?” Viktor. Yuuri whirled around to see Viktor standing in the doorway to the hotel, his ocean-colored eyes wide and imploring. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing…”

He strode forward, though his breath came out in a puff of chilled air and his body seemed to tremble in the cold. “Come here.” He wrapped Yuuri in his arms, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s pink cheek.

“I just...needed some fresh air…” Yuuri said, allowing himself to fall back into Viktor’s arms.

“Without your coat?” Viktor was smirking, pressing his cold nose against Yuuri’s ear. “My Yuuri should be more thoughtful. How are you going to survive in Russia if you’re going to forget your coat in the cold?”

Yuuri froze, his eyes widening. He gingerly stepped out of Viktor’s embrace to meet his eyes. “Russia?” he asked and Viktor smiled.

“Well, I...how else am I going to continue your coaching and make a comeback at the same time?”

Yuuri flushed, and not because of the cold. “You want me to...move to Russia...and live with…you?”

“Only if you want to…” Viktor himself seemed a bit bashful, a bit hesitant. But Yuuri couldn’t help the smile that overtook his own face.

He threw himself into Viktor’s arms, wrapping him up in an embrace. “Of course! Of course I want to!”

They hadn't spoken about it before now. And Yuuri didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. He had assumed he would have to return to Hasetsu and live without Viktor. And he would do it. He would strive to be selfless if it meant Viktor coming back to the ice. But this...this was the option he could only have dreamt of - Viktor wanted him to come to Russia. To live with him… in Russia. It was too good to be true.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Viktor whispered, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. As they pulled away, their eyes met for a brief, intense moment. And then, before Yuuri could react, Viktor’s lips met his own.

Yuuri’s heart began pounding against his ribcage as the world around him stood still, frozen in time. His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes closed and his breath caught in his throat. The feeling of Viktor pressed against him was warm, warm even though the air that surrounded and consumed him was freezing cold. This was the first time since that kiss in China...the first time that Viktor had dared to press his lips to Yuuri’s...and the first time that Yuuri hadn’t pulled away.

Perhaps Viktor had been scared all that time. Scared of causing anxiety to creep into Yuuri’s head, to cloud his judgment while he was competing. But now, Yuuri’s world was spinning and all he wanted was more. More Viktor, more touch, more, more, more.

His fingers hesitantly found their way to wind themselves into Viktor’s soft silver hair. He was growing confident, eros taking control over his body and mind. He wanted Viktor. Viktor wanted him. Wanted him to live in Russia with him. Wanted to...marry him.

Forget Chris. Forget what he had said. He was jealous, so obviously jealous. Yuuri had seen the way he stared at Viktor with lust-filled eyes. It didn’t matter. Because Viktor wanted Yuuri. His reasons for it didn’t matter. He wanted Yuuri. _That_ was all that mattered.

Viktor’s tongue parted Yuuri’s lips, procuring a moan from Yuuri as he succumbed to the hands that caressed his neck, pulling him closer while snaking around his waist. “ _Ty krasiva,_ My Yuuri,” Viktor purred between kisses and heavy gasps for breath. And though Yuuri didn’t understand those words, the tender, crooning tone of Viktor’s voice set his heart ablaze. He pulled Viktor tighter, deepening the kiss.

Viktor quietly muffled a moan into Yuuri’s mouth, causing Yuuri’s chest to tighten and a warmth to spread to all of his appendages. _All_ of them. He was sure Viktor could feel his growing arousal, as closely pressed as they were to one another. He might have been embarrassed...but for the way Viktor caressed his neck, and the way he ran his hands through his dark black hair.

“Yuuri…” Viktor gasped. “My Yuuri…”

The way Yuuri’s name glided over Viktor’s tongue like silk...like sex...Yuuri felt he could die right at that moment and have had a completely fulfilled life. But Viktor’s desperate grip, his passionate embrace, reminded Yuuri to stay alive, to stay present. Because this life with Viktor...it was real and it was far from over yet.

“We should get back inside…” Yuuri finally pulled away, his voice a thick whisper.

Viktor pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s, breathing heavy. He nodded, a smile curling over his bruised lips. “Yea. _Or_...we could go back to the room...forget about the banquet. Forget about the press and the sponsors. And just be together. Just you and me…”

Yuuri wasn’t sure it was possible to blush a darker shade of red than he already had. But the thought of being alone with Viktor, under the covers with nothing but clothing and skin in between them...it was both exhilarating and terrifying. And he was sure his face was the color of a fresh plum.

“What about...your comeback…? Aren’t you going to announce it? The press will want to know…”

Viktor shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you, My Yuuri. So we’ll do whatever _you_ want.”

Yuuri had been such a fool for allowing Chris’s words to affect him. He knew Viktor better than that. _This_ Viktor, _his_ Viktor, was staring at him with adoration and pride in his eyes. He was proud of Yuuri for who he was, for what he had done. So much so, that he wasn’t making the announcement of his own return to skating in favor of allowing Yuuri his own moment in the spotlight. How could he have ever doubted the Viktor he knew? The Viktor he _loved?_

They eventually decided to go back in, to mingle and schmooze. But this time, Viktor refused to leave Yuuri’s side, instead twining his fingers with Yuuri’s and standing proudly by his side. He introduced Yuuri to sponsors and members of the press, never once talking about himself or his own comeback. And when questions were bounced in that direction, Viktor stubbornly lobbed the focus back onto Yuuri.

“But Viktor, what about your own career? Are you planning on making a comeback?”

“We’ve heard the rumors. What’s the truth?”

“Are you planning on continuing to coach Katsuki Yuuri and skate at the same time?”

Viktor’s press smile sat firmly in place, but he remained firm. “I’d be happy to address any questions regarding my own comeback and future coaching career starting tomorrow morning. But tonight is about Yuuri and his magnificent performance. His world record!”

Viktor’s eyes met Yuuri’s several times over the course of the evening, and each time, heat spread through Yuuri’s body as he remembered the fire of the kiss they had shared. He knew Viktor felt it too. So they took their time, allowing the tension to build between them, until the time when they headed back to their room, still holding hands.

Stepping into the elevator, Yuuri’s heart was pounding. He _wanted_ Viktor. Was _desperate_ for him. But at the same time, he was ridden with anxiety. Did Viktor know? Did he suspect? Yuuri was sure he wore the “Virgin Badge” as if it was stapled to his lapel. But Viktor had never treated him like a ‘virgin.’ He had never pushed too hard. Nor had he held back. It was if Viktor’s speed was whatever speed worked best for Yuuri. As if he was taking cues from Yuuri’s own body. And right now, Yuuri’s body was crying out for Viktor’s touch.

Alone in the elevator, Yuuri could feel the tension between himself and Viktor as if it were a heavy fog. He chanced a glance in Viktor’s direction to see Viktor’s shining blue eyes watching the numbers on the door light up as each floor passed them by. As if he could feel Yuuri’s gaze, Viktor turned to meet it. “Yuuri? Are you alright?”

Yuuri forced himself to nod. His mouth was dry. His heart was pounding.

“Yuuri, I want you to know...we don’t have to...we won’t go any further than you feel comfortable with…” His words were cut from his lips as Yuuri pulled him in for a deep kiss. Yuuri could hear Viktor groaning with desire as he pinned Yuuri against the wall of the elevator, pressing him against the solid veneer and cold steel.

Who was this person? Yuuri felt removed from his own body as eros took over, and used his hands to rake over Viktor’s back, trailing down over the firm curves of his ass.

Viktor moaned low and guttural, almost feral, as Yuuri’s hands clasped his ass cheeks, pulling his hips closer as their lips crashed against one another’s.

The elevator dinged as they arrived on their floor and it took every ounce of strength in Yuuri’s body to peel himself out of Viktors arms, and exit onto their floor. Hand-in-hand, they tore towards their hotel room, only to stop short outside the door as Viktor fumbled in his pocket for the keycard.

By the time they stumbled inside, their hands were clawing at each other’s bodies, tearing the jackets from their backs. Their lips had barely broken contact. And Yuuri could feel his own erection, rock solid against the fabric of his pants.

Viktor pushed him up against the closed door, pressing his groin against Yuuri’s hips and adopting a slow and steady thrusting rhythm. The warmth and friction felt like heaven against Yuuri’s virgin cock. And all at once, he felt both embarrassed and agonized. This was _Viktor Nikiforov_ , the man of his dreams, the living legend, who was lapping at his lips and grinding against him. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

“Yuuri,” Viktor moaned. “Oh god, Yuuri.” His voice was heated and tortured and desperate and pleading. All at the same time. And it’s was all for Yuuri.

And before he knew it, Yuuri’s mind was going blank. He stopped thinking. He stopped worrying. He stopped over-analyzing. And just let himself feel. Let himself melt into Viktor’s touch, be absorbed and consumed by it.

Viktor’s hand trailed down Yuuri’s front to cup the bulge that had formed between his legs. And as Viktor’s hand began to move, to stroke, to gently squeeze, Yuuri came crashing back to reality, breathless, embarrassed, self conscious.

“W...wait…” he choked and Viktor immediately pulled away, leaving Yuuri feeling cold and empty in his absence.

“Yuuri? What’s wrong?” Viktor was studying him with large eyes filled with concern, and Yuuri immediately hated himself for ruining the moment. It had all been so perfect, so passionate, so effortless. And like all good things, he had ruined it.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Viktor. Can we…? Can we just...lay down? I’m really tired...I’m just...I’m not ready…”

“Shhh…” Viktor brought Yuuri’s hand to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles. “Don’t apologize, My Yuuri. I told you. Whatever you want. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

As they undressed and pulled on their pajamas, Yuuri felt addled and in a state of complete disbelief. How in the world had he ever become worthy of this man? This man who was so perfect and so kind. So open and yet so gentle. Viktor Nikiforov was so much more than just a skating legend. He was so much more than just a pretty face. He was everything and more.

Viktor curled up in their makeshift full-sized bed and offered the covers to Yuuri, holding them outstretched so Yuuri could easily climb in beside him. And as he cuddled up to Viktor’s body, Yuuri was enveloped in the warmth of Viktor’s arms and the overwhelming comfort and peace of being next to this man he could never deserve.

“Are you alright, My Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice was a quiet murmur against the back of Yuuri’s neck.

“I’m so sorry Viktor. I thought I was ready. I want to be ready…for you...”

“Yuuri, stop. Please. Don’t apologize. Here, look at me.” Yuuri rolled over so that they were face to face. He peered into Viktor’s deep ocean-colored eyes, mesmerized by their depth and their compassion.

“I want you, Yuuri. I want every part of you. I want the whole package. I would never pressure you to do something you’re not ready for. Because this...what we have...is so special. It’s so much more than I could ever have asked for. It’s so much more than I ever knew existed.” Viktor stroked Yuuri’s cheek, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “I don’t want to ruin this. Because it’s worth waiting for. You are worth waiting for.”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat along with a wave of emotion. In a moment of weakness, he blurted out his worries and fears and laid them at Viktor’s feet. “Viktor…what’s going to happen to us? Russian Nationals are in two weeks...and Japanese Nationals are at the same time. I know you said you want to stay on as my coach. But how...how can we make this work?”

Viktor smiled gently. “Oh _Lapochka._ Do you trust me?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

“I have to go back to Russia, My Yuuri. I have to prepare two new programs and I have to do that with my coach if I’m going to have a fighting chance at Nationals. As soon as Japanese Nationals are finished...as soon as you win gold...come to Russia. Come to Russia and be with me. And we’ll go to Four Continents and Worlds together.”

It was all a dream. An amazing dream that Yuuri never wanted to awaken from. As Viktor wrapped him up in his arms, and pressed kiss after kiss to his lips, Yuuri felt himself lulled into comfort and ease, completely happy, completely content.  


* * *

 

Yuuri didn’t want to say good-bye. He was terrified. Anything could happen during the time in which they would be separated. Viktor could forget about him. He could find someone else. Or what if he simply changed his mind?

 _Stop it. Shut up. Shut up,_ Yuuri begged his subconsciousness. He needed to trust Viktor. Needed to trust Viktor’s words and Viktor’s actions. If this was going to work, he needed to trust that Viktor was true to his word.

“We’ll skype everyday, ok?” Viktor kissed the tops of Yuuri’s hands, his nose bright pink from the Barcelona cold. “I promise. I’ll count down the days until we’re together again.”

The cab had come to pick Viktor up. His bags had been loaded. And for the first time in months, Viktor was about to go back home to Russia...Without Yuuri.

“This is only for now,” Viktor purred, pulling Yuuri into an all-consuming hug. “We’ll be together again before you know it.”

Before he pulled away, Viktor pressed a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s lips. “ _Ya obozhayu tebya,_ My Yuuri.”

He stepped into the cab and closed the door behind him. Rolling the window down, Viktor peered out into the cold for one last smile. “Oh and one more thing...win gold for me, Yuuri. I want to kiss that gold medal.”

The plane back to Japan was incredibly lonely. Yuuri thought about Viktor the entire time. And when he finally landed, his phone blew up with text messages and notifications. Most of them from Viktor.

_Landed, My Yuuri. I miss you already._

_I hate that I can’t hear your voice. I hope you’re getting a good nap on the plane, Sleeping Beauty._

_Home doesn’t feel like home without you. I’m so angsty. Ugh. I hate this. lol_

_I’m off to bed. I hope I dream of you._

_Good morning, My Yuuri. I’m off to practice today. We choreographed my short program today! I can’t wait for you to see it!_

Viktor hadn’t forgotten about him. Yuuri’s heart leapt for joy, despite his exhaustion. He smiled as he texted back.

_Just landed. I miss you. Is Yakov helping you choreograph?_

Yuuri smirked at the nealy automatic ding and vibrate of his phone in his pocket.

 _Yuuuuuuri! Welcome back to the world,_ _moya lyubov_ _!_

Three dots appeared on the screen before another text message popped up immediately following the last.

_Yakov has been ignoring me :( I had to find help elsewhere._

Yuuri’s brow furrowed as he typed his response.

_Oh? Yurio? Georgi? Mila?_

_No. An old friend of mine. Maxim Volkov. I’ve told you about him, yea?_

Yuuri bristled despite himself, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. Maxim Volkov. No, Viktor had never mentioned him. He would have remembered Viktor mentioning another man...especially a man with a name like that.

_No..._

_He’s one of Lilia’s principal ballet dancers. I can’t wait for you to see this program he choreographed. It’s brilliant._

Yuuri didn’t know what to say, so he stashed his phone in his pocket while he gathered his luggage and his thoughts.

“Yuuuuuuri!” He recognized Minako Sensei’s voice and turned to see her skipping toward him with a broad smile on her face. “Welcome home, Yuuri! Japan Nationals, here we come!”

* _Ding*_

_*Ding*_

_*Ding*_

The vibrate and gentle tone of his phone brought a chuckle from Minako’s mouth. “Sounds like someone is awfully popular. I’ll bet I know who’s texting you.”

Yuuri blushed. “Do you mind if I…?”

Minako grinned. “Answer it, then. Go on. And tell Viktor I say hi!”

When Yuuri checked his phone, he chuckled at the panic evident from Viktor’s texts.

_We’re choreographing my free skate tomorrow too!_

_Yuuri...you’re not upset are you?_

_I’m sorry that I didn’t mention it to you, My Yuuri. I could have sworn that I did...Maybe I just forgot? I didn’t want to focus on myself during your season._

Yuuri sighed, brushing a piece of thick black hair out of his face.

_No, it’s ok. I’m not upset. I’m glad you have someone helping you. And I can’t wait to see your programs. I’m sure they’re amazing._

He decided to be a bigger person than he thought he was capable of being. He decided not to let his anxiety and jealousy get the better of him. And Viktor’s response proved it was the right decision.

_You’re wonderful, My Yuuri. Tell your family and Minako I say hi! Skype tonight?_

_Yes, please!_ Was Yuuri’s response.  


* * *

 

That night, Yuuri dialled Viktor on Skype with his heart pounding in his chest. They had this time set up already, so why was he so nervous? He cursed himself for his racing heart, the sweat beading on his temple, the anxiety creeping up the back of his throat. Japan was 6 hours ahead of Russia, so 10pm would be 4pm, right around the time that Viktor would be leaving the rink.

But despite their pre-arranged appointment, Skype kept ringing and ringing. And ringing. And ringing.  And then, suddenly, it connected. The screen was wobbly and blurred and Yuuri couldn’t see Viktor. But _someone_ had answered. And that someone was not Viktor.

A man’s face filled the screen. And not just any man. A _ridiculously_ _handsome_ man.  Yuuri swallowed as he took in the chiseled cheekbones and meticulously groomed trail of stubble lining this man’s upper lip, chin and cheeks. Huge green eyes lined with thick black lashes blinked at Yuuri from the other side of the screen.

“Uh...hi,” the man muttered in a thick Russian accent, as a cheeky grin played over his face. Yuuri noticed that the man’s thick black hair was perfectly pulled into a bun on the top of his head, while loose tendrils fell down to frame his face.

Yuuri felt a wave of nausea and embarrassment wash over him. “I...uh...I’m sorry. I think I dialled the wrong number?” He hadn’t. He knew he hadn’t. But what else could he say?

“Max, what are you doing? Give me that!” It was Viktor’s voice in the background. Yuuri’s heart caught in his throat. This was his worst nightmare. He knew it. He had known it all along. “Yuuri! Yuuri!” Viktor was calling out his name as the phone changed hands.

There was a fumbling and jarring motion as the screen was tugged back and forth, and eventually Viktor’s face filled Yuuri’s phone. He was still sweaty, Yuuri could tell from the shimmering sheen that covered his forehead. “My Yuuri!” he crooned, a wide smile on his lips. “Oh, how I’ve missed that face! How are you?”

He was acting like nothing was amiss. Like Yuuri hadn’t  just come face-to-face with one of the most stunningly attractive men he’d ever seen. Yuuri gaped at Viktor through the screen, lost for words, unsure how to regain composure. Unsure of what to say.

Viktor seemed to notice Yuuri’s discomfort. “Yuuri, this is Max. You remember, Maxim Volkov? He’s been helping me choreograph my programs.” And then the man’s face and his messy bun, and his stubble and his green eyes once again filled the screen.

“So this is the amazing Yuuri, then?” Max grinned. “I’ve heard such lovely things about you!”

Yuuri attempted to smile, but he was sure it looked half-hearted. “Hey,” he said, raising a hand in a deflated wave.

“We just finished a run through of my new short program. And Yuuri, I can’t wait for you to see it. It’s...it’s dedicated to you. To how you make me feel.” Viktor was so beautiful, so sincere. And Yuuri wanted to be flattered, to be excited. But he couldn’t shake the pit that had settled in his stomach.

“Hey! Is that Katsudon?” Hearing that sharp and cutting voice actually made Yuuri feel slightly better. After another rustling and changing of hands, the ill tempered and scowling face of Yuri Plisetsky took Viktor’s place on the screen of Yuuri’s phone .

“Hey, Katsudon. You better fucking win gold at Japanese Nationals. Everyone else sucks, so no excuses!”

Yuuri almost laughed. It was about as close to a compliment as he would ever receive from Yurio.

“Yuuri is _going_ to win gold. And it’s not because everyone else sucks,” Viktor snapped from the background.

“Yea, whatever,” Yurio growled before turning his narrowed green eyes back to Yuuri. “Listen here, Piggy. You do whatever it takes to get your ass out here. Because I can’t handle hearing Viktor’s pissing and moaning about missing you anymore. You got it?”

And then, Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. He had misjudged the situation again.

“Give me that!” Viktor’s voice again. As the screen again flashed with Viktor’s handsome face, Yuuri couldn’t help but allow the real smile to blossom over his lips.

“I miss you, Viktor.” The words were quiet as they escaped him. And he saw a sadness register over Viktor’s face upon hearing them.

“I miss you so much, My Yuuri.”

“Gross! You two are going to make me throw up!” came Yurio’s voice from the background, but Viktor ignored it.

“I’m sorry. Practice ran a little long. Can I call you when I get home? I’ll be all yours then. Is that ok?” Viktor’s ocean-blue eyes were wide and gentle and Yuuri felt like he could sink into them and drown within.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be awake.”

“Ok. Perfect. Yuuri…?”

“Yes, Viktor?”

“I...I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

And then the screen went black. The connection was severed. And Yuuri’s head swam with anxiety once again. He fell back on his bed and covered his face with his pillow as he felt tears begin to form in his eyes.

He missed Viktor. Terribly. Being apart from him was miserable. But Yuuri knew he wasn’t helping himself.  Why was he being this way? So jealous of a man who was helping Viktor choreograph his programs? Viktor needed all the help he could get after taking a year off! Yuuri should be thanking Maxim Volkov for assisting Viktor. For being there for Viktor when Yuuri himself couldn’t.

But there was something _off_ . Yuuri couldn’t shake the feeling. There had been something strange in those wide green eyes. Besides, who just answers someone else’s phone like that? Somebody who has a lot of nerve and no respect for boundaries, _that’s_ who.

Viktor’s call came within the hour, and Yuuri answered the call with a smile, hoping to disguise any residual irritation that was still making its home in his brain.

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor crooned, his beautiful heart-shaped smile painted on his face. Yuuri noticed that his silver hair was dripping, and he was dressed in a fluffy white robe. He’d obviously just gotten out of the shower. In the background, the pristine furnishings of his apartment stood out in stark contrast to the blank walls and humble accommodations of Yuuri’s childhood bedroom. “I’m so sorry about that! We were so busy, we lost track of time.”

Yuuri nodded. “Max seems...nice…”

Viktor smirked. “Are you jealous of Max, My Yuuri?”

Yuuri flushed as his eyes darted away from the screen. “No. Of course not. I trust you...I…”

“Oh Yuuri. Do not be jealous of Max! He’s not my type! I only have one type and that type is Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s cheeks were hot, but he couldn’t help the smile that had crept back over his features. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he studied Viktor through the screen. “Oh? So your type isn’t chiseled Russian God?”

And Viktor’s laugh was like music to his ears, warm and playful. “My type is sweet and nerdy. Extra cuddly. And a little awkward. Soft and shy but sexy when he wants to be. Sound familiar?”

“I miss you. Tell me about your short program.” Yuuri attempted to change the subject but Viktor just smiled at him.

“I can’t tell you, My Yuuri. I have to _show_ you. I’ve asked Yurio if he would Skype with you during my performance at Russian Nationals.”

“And?” Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

“And he said he would do it. He was a shit about it, obviously. But if you’re up for it…”

“Of course!” _Of course_ Yuuri was up for it. To get to see Viktor’s program live… “I wouldn’t miss it, Viktor.”

“Can you ask Minako if she’ll do the same for me? I want to see your performance live. And to give you some encouragement before.”

It was so thoughtful. So _Viktor._ “Of course, Viktor.”

“Oh Yuuri. I can’t wait for you to be here with me. Mmm...what would I do with you first?” There was a sly, flirtatious look in Viktor’s shining blue eyes and it shot directly through the screen of Yuuri’s phone to settle in his groin. He squeaked in response.

“I can think of a few things…” Viktor continued. “I think I’d like to start by kissing you. Slowly. Pressing you up against the wall. And taking your clothes off piece by piece…”

“Viktor!” Yuuri was getting hard now, he could feel an erection growing beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“What would you do...if you were here, Yuuri? I want to hear it…” Viktor’s cheeks were flushed, his lips shining and pink. He looked so good, so delectable. So touchable. Yuuri couldn’t help but want to reach through the screen and run his hands all over the exposed skin of Viktor’s chest where his robe had fallen open.  And the jealous part of him, the eros part of him, wanted to stake his claim Viktor, to make him as Yuuri’s own.

“I would...kiss you…”

Viktor smirked, nodding encouragingly. “Good...what else?”

Yuuri’s flush had crept from his cheeks, down to his neck and was now spreading over his chest. “I would...take your robe off…”

“Mmm...like this?” Viktor slid the robe from his shoulders, so he was now completely bare- chested and the sight made Yuuri caught his breath. He wanted to dig into that smooth skin, lay kisses all up and down Viktor’s chest and neck.

“Yea…” Yuuri whispered.

“Yuuri….will you...touch yourself?”

Yuuri could see Viktor’s right arm pumping, could see Viktor’s lips trembling. He knew Viktor was touching himself in response to Yuuri’s words. And in a way, it made Yuuri feel powerful. Slowly, Yuuri slipped a hand down his sweatpants and fondled his erection. This he could do. It was really no different than the many times he’d done so as a teenager, with the many faces of Viktor Nikiforov watching him from the posters on his walls. But this time, it was the face of the real Viktor Nikiforov watching...and he was touching himself in response.

Yuuri gasped as his thumb grazed over the leaking slit of his cock.

“Good, My Yuuri. I want you to imagine it’s me touching you like that. I want you to feel my hand around your cock.” Viktor’s blue eyes were wide, his pupils blown out in lust.

“Oh god, Viktor,” Yuuri moaned. It had been so long since he’d touched himself like this...and yet everything was brand new. And Viktor Nikiforov was watching.

“I never want to feel anyone but you, My Yuuri. I wish you were here. I wish I could hold you and make you feel good. _Ty dlya menya vse.”_

It didn’t take long before Yuuri’s orgasm was crashing over him, and he was spilling all over his chest and his bed sheets. Viktor followed shortly after, gasping and panting. And after it was all over, Yuuri couldn’t help the shame that settled in the pit of his stomach. Had he really just done that? Had he really just _masturbated_ in front of his idol?

But the look of pleased contentment on Viktor’s face brought Yuuri back to reality, to a place of calm. “Thank you, Yuuri. For trusting me. I can’t wait until we’re together again.”

“Only a week and a half until Nationals…” Yuuri murmured sleepily.

“And then you’re all mine, _Lapochka.”_

But Yuuri knew. He was already all Viktor’s. He belonged to Viktor alone. Mind, body and soul.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Thank you so much to everyone who bookmarked and read and kudos'd my work! 
> 
> I actually had to increase the chapter count after getting into the thick of the writing. So, that's cool, right?
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day-Eve! Hope this update gives you some cozy Viktuuri feels :)

Viktor’s short program was stunning. It was unlike anything Yuuri had ever seen. 

Prior to the program’s start, the Skype call came in from Viktor’s phone, to reveal Yurio’s scowling face. “Hey, Katsudon. Viktor’s about to go on. You awake?”

“Hi, Yurio!” Yuuri greeted the young Russian with a wave. “Yes, I’m awake!”

“That’s not my name!” Yurio growled fiercely, and Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle. “Call me that again and I swear I’ll hang up!” Yurio spat.

“Ok! Ok! I’m sorry, Yuri!” Yuuri raised a hand in mock surrender. “We really appreciate you doing this. Truly. Both Viktor and I.”

Yurio shrugged. “Yea well, the old man has been working hard. Even though he’s going to end up losing to me in the end, either way.” Yuuri could see the confident sneer pulling at Yurio’s lips, and a part of him envied that surety. Yurio was always that way. That cocksure and self-assured. Some might call it arrogant. But Yuuri knew that beneath that hard exterior was a true friend. A friend who had given Yuuri a katsudon filled pierozki when he had needed it the most. Yuuri was thankful for that friendship, as begrudging as it often was. 

“Is that Yuuri Katsuki?” Yuuri recognized the voice that boomed from the background, and he bristled instinctually. A large hand grabbed the screen from Yurio’s grasp, and all at once, Yuuri’s eyes met the shimmering green of Maxim Volkov’s.  _ What the hell was he doing there? _

_ “ _ Hello, Yuuri!” Max waved, his face overly friendly for Yuuri’s taste. “Dialled in for Viktor’s return performance, hmm?”

What was Yuuri to say? That Viktor had asked him to watch? That he would be there in person if he could? That Yuuri himself had more of a right to be there than Max did in the first place...

“Give me  _ that!”  _ Yurio growled. His eyes were narrowed in icy irritation as he snatched the phone back and glared down at Yuuri. “Fucking Volkov…” 

Yuuri could tell by the flurry of movement in the background that Yurio was walking away, leaving Max behind him. Once Yuuri was sure that Yurio’s pacing had led them far enough away to be out of earshot, he mustered the courage to ask, “Max came with you to competition?”

Yurio’s thin yellow eyebrows raised at the venom Yuuri hadn’t been able to restrain in his own voice. “You jealous, Katsudon?”

Yuuri flushed. “No...I…”

“Well don’t be. Max is an idiot. He’s only here to watch Viktor’s performance and give him critiques. He used to be a skater before he retired to start dancing full time.”

“Viktor wants him to be there?”

Yurio sighed heavily, as if deeply annoyed with the back and forth of Yuuri’s anxiety. “Viktor wants  _ you _ to be here, you idiot. Max is here as his coach.”

“I thought Yakov was his coach…”

Yurio shrugged. “So did I. So did Yakov. But Max is...pushy. And his programs are fucking good...so, I guess he has a right to be.”

Coming from Yurio, that was saying something. Yuuri hated the feeling of uneasiness settling in his stomach. He swallowed hard and Yurio rolled his eyes, seeing Yuuri’s expression. 

“Stop it! Stop worrying. I already told you, all Viktor does is talk about you. It’s annoying to even be around him lately. He fucking dedicated his short program to you. That has to count for something.” 

Yuuri brightened at those words. Yurio was right. For whatever reason, Yurio cared enough to want to settle Yuuri’s mind, and for that, Yuuri had to be thankful. “Thank you, Yuri,” Yuuri said with a smile and Yurio just snorted in disgust.

“He’s getting ready to go onto the ice. Hold on.” Yurio was moving again, heading back to where Max was standing, waiting. And then, Yuuri saw  _ him _ . 

Viktor looked stunning in a red two-piece suit that hugged his form and caressed all the sinewy expanses of muscles in his legs and back. He was wearing a white button down shirt underneath the suit, and a matching red tie was snugly fitted against his throat. His silver hair was mussed and disheveled, but seemingly styled that way on purpose. And his eyes lit up when he saw Yurio heading his way with his phone alight in hand. 

“Is that my Yuuri?” he purred as they drew nearer. When Yurio held the screen out, Viktor scooped it up graciously. “Hi, My Yuuri! Your short program was magnificent today. You made me so proud.”

It  _ had  _ gone well, Yuuri knew. And he was thankful for Viktor’s praise. But now, it was Viktor’s turn. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll do, Viktor!” 

“Don’t ever take your eyes off me,” Viktor repeated Yuuri’s words from the Cup of China, and Yuuri nodded, smiling and flushing deeply. 

“Never.”

When Viktor entered the rink, it was to thunderous applause. Yuuri’s breath stopped in his lungs as he watched Viktor take his spot on the center of the ice. And when the music started, Yuuri felt he might never breathe again.

The music was a chaotic and incredibly fast-paced arrangement: something Yuuri couldn't even imagine skating to in his wildest dreams. Viktor’s body, on the ice, twisted and turned, writhed and spun in a chaotic dance that had Yuuri mesmerized and unable to look away. It was manic, heated, desperate. Like a lover Viktor couldn’t get close enough to, couldn’t get enough of. His body seemed to cry out in passion and Yuuri could see that Viktor was giving everything he had to chasing this program, to throwing the entirety of his being into it. 

And Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off Viktor. 

Viktor surprised the audience by ending his program with a quad flip, just as Yuuri had done in his own Free Skate at the GPF. And the crowd erupted into screams and cheers. 

Then, Yuuri understood. Viktor’s new program was a declaration of love. Viktor was in love...with him. Even though they hadn’t said the words, the program had said it loud and clear. Viktor was undeniably, madly in love with him. His performance had proved it, skating the message for all to see. But only Yuuri understood what it really meant.

As Viktor skated towards them and stepped off the rink, Yuuri could feel three words burning at his throat, desperate to come out.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you.  _

He was breathless just from watching Viktor’s program and when Viktor grabbed the phone from Yurio’s hand with smiling lips and wide eyes, Yuuri gasped, “Viktor, that was amazing. It was so beautiful.”

“It’s called _Mania._ It was all for you. You make me crazy, Yuuri. You make me lose control. I’m crazy about you.”

“Viktor, come on! Your scores!” Max, _of_ _course_. Yuuri bristled as Max put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder and nudged him towards the Kiss and Cry. 

“Yuuri, I’ll call you tonight, ok?” Viktor blew the phone a kiss as he disappeared from view into the crowd. And Yuuri, breathless, missed him immediately. 

“Tsk…” Yurio growled as his face came to occupy the screen once again. “It was a little sloppy, if you ask me…”

“Are you kidding?” Yuuri asked, incredulous. “He was incredible.”

Yurio shrugged. “Easy for you to say...when he dedicated the program to you.” 

Yuuri felt his cheeks flush again. That program...that beautiful, stunning, creative, breathtaking program...Viktor had meant it as a display of love  _ for Yuuri _ . 

“Hey hold on. They’re announcing Viktor’s scores.” 

Yuuri held his breath as Viktor’s scores lit up all around them. 

_ 119.56 _

_ “Oh my god,”  _ Yurio gasped. “That fucker broke it.”

Viktor had done it. He’d broken Yurio’s record. He’d earned his own world record back. The screen was shaking in Yurio’s hand. 

“I have to go,” Yurio’s voice was hoarse. Tinged with anger.

“Wait, Yuri -!”

The last thing Yuuri saw before the screen went black was Maxim Volkov throwing his arms around Viktor in the Kiss and Cry. 

 

* * *

Yuuri didn’t mention Maxim Volkov when Viktor called him that night. He didn’t want to take away from Viktor’s world record, didn’t want to distract Viktor or give him any cause for concern. Especially with the debut of his new Free Program tomorrow.

But his heart was still pounding in his chest when he heard the ding of the incoming Skype call. He did his best to slap an encouraging smile on his face as he answered. 

“Hello  _ kraseevyi _ !” Viktor cooed as soon as their eyes met through the screen. “How are you?”

“Tired,” Yuuri answered honestly. “But I’m so glad I got to see your Short Program, Viktor. It was amazing.  _ You _ were amazing! And you won your world record back! I knew you would!”

“It’s all because of you, My Yuuri! You’ve given me a new sense of motivation.”

“You said the program is called  _ Mania _ ?”

Viktor grinned, shooting Yuuri a coy, flirtatious look. “It is. It’s meant to be a sister piece to your  _ Eros  _ and Yurio’s  _ Agape _ . Mania is yet another form of love...manic, chaotic, desperate love. Completely passionate, completely uncontrollable. Mania eats you up from the inside out and consumes you..body and soul. That’s what you do to me, Yuuri.”

“It was…” Yuuri felt himself blush, “So...sexy.”

Viktor let out a light, musical laugh. “Oh Yuuri...now you know how I feel every time I watch  _ Eros.” _

_ “ _ It's not even close to the same thing…” Yuuri said with a smile. “You’re so...gorgeous, Viktor.”

For once, it wasn’t Yuuri’s turn to blush. A slight pink colored Viktor’s cheeks as he gazed lovingly at Yuuri. “Yuuri...do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

“What you do to me? The effect you have on me? I’ve never felt like this before. With anyone. I just wish I could be with you right now.”

Yuuri has to force himself to breathe normally after Viktor’s words, to keep his composure. “Soon, Viktor. I can’t wait to be in Russia with you.”

“Makka will be so excited to see you! Almost excited as me!” 

Yuuri laughed. He loved seeing Viktor smile, seeing his eyes light up and his cheeks flush. Almost as much as he loved seeing him skate. But  _ this _ Viktor, the private Viktor, off the ice and away from the audience, was all his. Hidden from the rest of the world, this Viktor was emotional and silly and slightly awkward. He was clingy and loving, and every once in a while, Yuuri would see a bit of insecurity peek through his perfectly well-crafted persona of poise and self-confidence. It was a Viktor that was reserved only for a select few. And for whatever reason, Yuuri has been chosen as one of those few. 

“So...how did Yurio handle you breaking his record? He seemed really upset when he hung up.”

Viktor shrugged. “He’ll get over it. I hope he’ll take it as a challenge. Use his annoyance to push himself to be better. To break the record again.”

“You planning on breaking anymore records this weekend?” Yuuri asked with an eyebrow raised slyly. 

“You never can plan on those things,” Viktor winked at him. “But I’ll do my best.” 

“You haven’t told me anything about your Free Program. What’s the theme?”

Viktor’s smile lit his face. “Well, it was Max’s idea.” Yuuri swallowed hard at the mention of  _ that _ name. “You know the ballet,  _ The Snow Queen?” _ When Yuuri nodded, Viktor continued. “Well, we’re doing a rendition of that. Titling it  _ The Snow King.  _ It’s going to have a very ballet feel to it. That’s Max’s forte, you know…”

Yuuri nodded again. “Yurio told me he used to be a skater…”

“He was never very good at it. He’s much better off the ice. But his choreography is brilliant.”

“Yea...I noticed.” 

Viktor’s smile dissolved at the despondency im Yuuri’s voice. “Yuuri, are you ok?”

Yuuri forced himself to smile and nod. “Of course. I just wish I could be there to celebrate with you when you win your gold medal.”

“And I wish I could be there to celebrate with  _ you _ when you win yours.”

 

* * *

Perhaps it was Viktor’s unwavering faith in him that helped Yuuri to win his first ever gold medal at Japanese Nationals.

When he skated off the ice after his free program, the first thing he saw was Viktor’s smiling face glowing on the screen of Minako’s phone. As he got closer, Yuuri noticed tears filling Viktor’s shining turquoise eyes. “Yuuri, that was amazing! Beautiful!  _ You  _ were beautiful!”

Yuuri wanted so badly to tell Viktor he loved him, that the program he had skated today had been more than anything a response to seeing Viktor’s own display of love the night prior. But as he took a seat in the Kiss and Cry next to Minako, he was overcome with emotion. He had to win. He had to win gold. He had to prove to Viktor that all his time and effort...that all his love...was not wasted on Yuuri. 

_ 196.27 _

It was a good score, though it didn’t break his personal record. But with a grand total of 306.42, Yuuri had just easily won Japanese Nationals, and secured himself a gold medal. He barely registered Minako throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. 

All he could think about was Viktor. 

 

* * *

Viktor’s Free Program was the exact opposite of his Short Program. Where  _ Mania  _ has been chaotic and unpredictable, a twirling mess of unrefined limbs and torrential passion,  _ The Snow King  _ was delicate and poised, pristine and clean. It was ballet on ice, and Viktor himself looked a vision, all dressed in flowing white and silver. His body shimmered and glittered with each twirl and dip, each jump and quad.

His movements were agile and lithe, his body moving with absolute grace on the ice. Each jump was clean, each landing flawless. Yuuri has never seen him look so beautiful. But this was a different kind of beauty than  _ Mania.  _ It was serene and delicate and endlessly smooth. It wasn’t sexually charged, but mesmerizing nonetheless.

And after he finished, even though the audience screamed his name, Viktor only had eyes for Yuuri. As he approached, pulling closer to the screen, Yuuri could see expanses of silver glitter painted under his eyes and over his chest. “My Yuuri! What did you think?” He was breathless and glowing as sweat beaded over his brow like starlight. 

“It was stunning, Viktor. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Yuuri replied, and Viktor beamed with pride at his words. 

“Viktor, come on. I took some notes. And we have to get your scores.” Max again, taking Viktor’s hand and lacing his fingers through Viktor’s own. Green eyes flashed through the screen to meet Yuuri’s as a smug smile enveloped Max’s handsome face. 

Viktor nodded in compliance, but before he turned to go, he glanced back at Yuuri with adoration in his eyes. “Only a few more days until we’re together, Yuuri. When we talk tonight, we can make sure everything is finalized. I...I’m so lucky for you,  _ Lapochka.”  _ He blew Yuuri a kiss and was led away. 

Yurio held the phone aloft long enough for Yuuri to see Viktor’s scores: _195.52._

Yuuri’s cheeks felt hot. He’d beaten that score with his own Free Program. But still. Viktor had solidified his win. Another gold medal for the living legend. 

The screen filled with Yurio’s face, scowl intact. “I’m done playing his personal videographer. Bye, Katsudon.” And the screen went black.

 

* * *

Only three days later, Yuuri’s plane arrived in St. Petersburg, Russia. Yuuri’s clothing and personal effects had been sent ahead and Viktor had insisted on paying for everything to ensure Yuuri’s things got there before he did.

As Yuuri stepped from the plane and gathered his belongings, his heart settled in his throat, pounding and pounding and pounding. He was endlessly nervous. His whole life was about to change...was already changing. He was in Russia, about to move in with his best friend, coach and mentor. The man he loved and had loved for as long as he could skate. Nothing felt real. And yet, he knew that it was real. 

After he had gathered his baggage and headed to the escalator, Yuuri heard a voice that sent thrills down his spine. 

“Yuuri!”

And then he was running. Running in the direction of that voice. Because, there was Viktor, right in front of him for the first time in weeks, dressed in a dark blue coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck, smiling and waving. His cheeks were tinged pink from the cold, but Yuuri’s heart felt warm. Warmer than it had in a long time. He crashed into Viktor’s arms, feeling tears welling in his eyes, and allowed himself to be consumed by the comfort that was Viktor’s embrace. 

Yuuri felt Viktor press a kiss to his scalp, heard him sigh in contentment. “I missed you so much,” Viktor murmured and Yuuri could only nod in agreement, pulling Viktor closer. 

Then, Viktor stiffened, letting his arms fall from around Yuuri. Yuuri could feel his uneasiness and he knew immediately what had caused it by glancing around the airport lobby. People were  _ watching  _ them. With contentious, angry, repugnant glares, everyone around them seemed to be disgusted to have seen them embracing one another. Yuuri felt chilled to the bone. Viktor had warned him about this. About Russia’s blatant hostility towards people like them...men who chose to love other men…

Yuuri knew that Japan was much the same, but Hasetsu was a quiet, insular little paradise, removed from homophobia and bigotry. It was a safe place. But, he wasn’t in Hasetsu anymore. 

He remembered Viktor’s words of warning only a few days prior.

“We’ll have to be careful...I just want to warn you. Russia is very different from Hasetsu, Yuuri. It can be dangerous for people like us. We won’t be able to hold hands or kiss or even stand too close. But I promise you, I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And Yuuri had believed him. But he couldn’t have imagined the claustrophobic consternation that surrounded them after their embrace. He felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, completely exposed.

“Come on,” Viktor said gently. “Let’s go home.”

Home _. Their  _ home. Yuuri couldn’t help the smile that settled over his lips. Viktor was opening his home to Yuuri, giving Yuuri everything he had ever dreamed of. And he was giving it because he wanted to. He wanted Yuuri to be here with him in the home he had made for himself. 

Viktor hailed them a cab, assisting Yuuri with his baggage, never once complaining or allowing the contented smile to fall from his face. And once they had settled into the back of the vehicle, Viktor’s hand found Yuuri’s and gently began caressing the skin of his palm. Yuuri couldn’t help himself...he allowed his head to fall on Viktor’s shoulder, allowed his eyes to close. The feeling of Viktor’s lips on the top of his head told him the gesture was not unwelcome. 

“Take a nap, my Yuuri. We’ll be there in about a half hour,” Viktor murmured into his ear, and Yuuri nodded sleepily. 

By the time they arrived at Viktor’s apartment, Yuuri hadn’t really slept. He was on fire from Viktor’s touch, the gentle caresses of Viktor’s hand over his own. Being this close to Viktor again, feeling the warmth radiating from being beside him...it was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and overwhelming happiness. He had missed Viktor so much. Missed him like his lungs missed oxygen when submerged underwater. 

“Come on,  _ milyi.  _ We’re here,” Viktor whispered when the cab came to a stop. 

Viktor paid the driver, as Yuuri stepped out of the cab and began to retrieve his baggage from the back end of the vehicle. Before he knew it, Viktor was coming up behind him, and taking his luggage from him, while kissing him on the cheek. 

As Viktor pulled away, Yuuri was able to take in his surroundings, to really see St. Petersburg in all its opulent glory. It was so different from Hasetsu, so much more metropolitan, with busy streets and tall, high-rise buildings that scraped the sky. Viktor’s apartment was a massive building of glass and steel, lined with windows and balconies. And Yuuri knew, without having to be told, that Viktor’s apartment was on the top floor - what some might call the ‘penthouse.” He’d seen the apartment before - in fashion and interior-design magazines...but the thought of being inside it...living inside it...made Yuuri feel dizzy with excitement. 

“Ready?” Viktor was holding out a hand and smiling with eyes glimmering in the freezing cold Russian air. 

Yuuri took that hand without hesitation and followed Viktor inside his new home. 

The lobby was abuzz with people, all fashionably dressed as they flirted around the lobby looking like wealth and poise personified. They greeted Viktor with smiles and waves. And Viktor never dropped Yuuri’s hand. Not once. Inside this apartment, it seemed that they were safe from the negativity they had previously experienced. It was starting to feel like  _ home,  _ and Yuuri’s mind began to feel more and more at ease. 

As they approached the elevator, Yuuri’s heart began to pound, remembering the last time they had been alone in such a situation. As the doors closed, sealing them off from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, Viktor immediately dropped the luggage in his hand to envelope Yuuri into his arms and cover Yuuri’s lips with his own. 

Yuuri welcomed that touch, welcomed the way Viktor’s tongue parted his lips and curled inside his mouth. He relished the way Viktor’s hands scaled his body, slipping inside his jacket to run up and down his chest. He couldn’t help but melt into that touch. And when Viktor growled out a brief yet deeply aroused, “Fuck…,” Yuuri’s stomach flipped. 

“You see what you do to me?” Viktor whined against Yuuri’s lips. “You make me crazy, Yuuri. I can’t get enough.”

“Then don’t stop,” Yuuri moaned, biting on Viktor’s perfectly plump bottom lip, enjoying the rasping sound that emanated from Viktor’s open mouth. “Please. Don’t stop, Viktor.”

The elevator dinged as they reached the top floor and Viktor sighed heavily as he pulled himself from Yuuri’s desperate clutches. “Almost there, My Yuuri. And then you’re all mine.”

“I already am,” Yuuri whispered and Viktor smiled, pressing another long and steady kiss to Yuuri’s lips. 

Viktor struggled to locate his apartment key in his suddenly too tight pants, as Yuuri followed expectantly behind him. The pristine white door to Viktor’s apartment loomed just before them...and Yuuri could almost feel his own heart beating.  As Viktor slid the key into the lock, his eyes once again met Yuuri’s with a small smile. 

“Welcome home, My Yuuri,” he said as he pushed the door open. 

Almost immediately, Yuuri was greeted by warm paws and a wet nose. “Makkachin!” He knelt down and scooped the happy bundle of fluff into his arms to gladly accept kiss after kiss. 

“I told you he would be excited,” Viktor said playfully, smiling as he watched their interaction. 

Yuuri looked up to meet Viktor’s eyes and returned his smile with one of his own. “I think he’s more excited than you…”

Viktor put out his hand, offering it to Yuuri, who took it without hesitation. As Yuuri rose to his feet, Viktor pulled him close, brushing his lips against Yuuri’s ear. “Not possible,” he whispered in a low tone that shot a bolt of electricity straight to Yuuri’s groin. 

“Can I show you around?” Viktor asked as they separated.

Yuuri nodded breathlessly. “I would like that.”

Viktor took his hand again and headed deeper into the common space, an open living room that led into a modern and updated kitchen. It was all very clean and contemporary. Very  _ Viktor _ . The appliances gleamed in a shining stainless steel set amidst a backdrop of whites and blacks and grays. 

The living room was sparingly furnished for a simpler feel. But the long gray couch looked unendingly comfortable. And the television that hung on the wall was the largest and most expensive-looking Yuuri had ever seen. 

“So this is the kitchen and the living room…obviously…” Viktor chuckled. He pushed past the kitchen and stepped down a brightly lit hallway. “Down there, at the end, is the bathroom. And this,” Viktor pushed open a tall white door on their left, leading them into a large master suite, “...is  _ our  _ room.”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.  _ Our  _ room. He repeated the phrase several times in his head as he took in the luxurious surroundings. A large king-sized bed sat up against the gray walls looking soft and inviting with more pillows that Yuuri could count upon it. There were two nightstands, one on either side of the bed, and opposite the bed was a huge walk-in closet space. But the sight that had Yuuri dumbfounded and completely at a loss for words...was the sight of the pictures that were hung on the walls. 

Pictures of himself and Viktor. Together. At the beach in Hasetsu, at several different competitions. There were a few selfies. And one in particular that Phichit has shot when they weren’t looking...in Barcelona. In this particular shot, they were staring deeply into each other’s eyes, smiling and laughing. It was so beautiful, so  _ them,  _ it almost brought tears to Yuuri’s eyes. 

“That one’s my favorite.” Viktor whispered, following Yuuri’s line of sight. “I asked Phichit to send it to me after I got back home. Do you like it?”

Yuuri nodded. “I love it.”

“I was just...missing you so much. I hope it’s not too much…”

Yuuri turned to meet Viktor’s shining blue eyes and smiled. “It’s perfect, Viktor. It feels like home.”

“Like  _ our  _ home.” 

Before Yuuri knew it, Viktor’s lips were on his, Viktor’s hands carding through his hair. He was up against the bedroom door, pressed taut against it as Viktor kissed him breathless, panting out his name. Yuuri’s could feel his body responding to Viktor’s touch, melting into it as his cock hardened inside his pants.

“Yuuri, will you let me take care of you?” Viktor asked with wide blue eyes, and Yuuri could hear his own heartbeat screaming in his ears. His pulse was racing through his veins as he nodded.

“Yes. Yes please, Vitya.”

Yuuri’s head fell back as Viktor began to kiss at the delicate skin of Yuuri’s neck, sucking and licking and nipping. Yuuri then felt Viktor working at the zipper of his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders, before those deft fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. As Yuuri’s shirt fell to the floor, Viktor’s hands roved over his naked chest, toying with his hardened pink nipples. Yuuri gasped in pleasure. “Ahh, Viktor...Viktor…”

And then Viktor dropped to his knees, unzipping the fly of Yuuri’s jeans.  _ Oh god. Oh fuck... _ Yuuri was breathless, on fire. Terrified and desperate. “V...Viktor…” he stuttered.

“Shh…” Viktor looked up at him with wide, lusty eyes. “Please, Yuuri. Trust me. Let me make you feel good.”

“Shit...god...ok...ok. Yes.” Yuuri’s words were a jumbled mess of desire and incoherency. As Viktor’s hands pulled his jeans down to his ankles, and his underwear with them, Yuuri felt for a moment that he couldn’t breathe. 

And then his cock, hard and leaking, was in Viktor’s mouth and Yuuri was gone. Completely gone. Completely taken over by the total pleasure. 

He’d never felt anything like this. He hesitantly let his eyes drop to watch Viktor’s head bobbing up and down on his cock, to see Viktor’s pink lips stretched thin over Yuuri’s achingly hard member.  _ Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh god. Oh fuck.  _

The warmth of Viktor’s mouth, the swirl of his tongue over Yuuri’s slit, the pop of his lips as he pulled off and dove back in. For the briefest of movements, Viktor gazed up at him, allowing his sensual blue eyes to connect with Yuuri’s own. And Yuuri could have died from the intimacy, the desperate carnality of it. 

He was close.  _ Really  _ close. But he didn’t want it to end. He never wanted it to end. He was going to come. He was going to come in Viktor’s mouth.  _ Shit.  _

_ “ _ Viktor...I’m going to...I’m going to -!” He tried to warn, but Viktor didn’t back off. Instead, he snaked both of his arms around and gripped Yuuri’s ass with both of his hands, forcing Yuuri even deeper into his own throat. 

And that was it. Too much. Perfectly too much. Yuuri spilled inside Viktor’s mouth, crying out his name in absolute naked pleasure. 

After a moment of panting and gasping, Yuuri watched as Viktor rose to press a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “Good?” he whispered, and Yuuri could only whimper in response. His entire body felt immobile and limp, completely boneless. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him and he pinched his eyes shut tight, only to feel Viktor’s lips on his once more. 

And his eyes shot open. Viktor hadn’t...he was still…”Viktor...do you want to...should I…?”

Viktor chuckled softly, kissing Yuuri’s temple gently. “No need,  _ dusha moya.  _ I told you...I just wanted to make you feel good. Get in bed, ok? Rest. I know you must be exhausted. I’m going to get in the shower. Do you need anything?”

Yuuri shook his head, though a stagnancy had sunk into the pit of his stomach. This was wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go...the gives and takes of a relationship...though Yuuri was inexperienced, he  _ wanted  _ to please Viktor. But at the same time, he was terrified. What if he did it wrong? What if he made a fool of himself?

As Viktor gave him one last kiss and moved to stride from the room, Yuuri could see his hardened member pressed against the fabric of his jeans. Yuuri wanted so badly to beg Viktor to come back, to give to Viktor what Viktor had so easily given to him. But he was frozen, immobile. Slowly, he succumbed to his own exhaustion, and wandered over to the bed and collapsed on top of it, allowing his eyes to close and sleep to steal him away from his own anxieties. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he awoke to darkness and soft, muffled cries coming from somewhere outside the bedroom. A light was on down at the end of the hall, Yuuri could see it from the open door of Viktor’s bedroom. Slowly, he rose to pad silently down the hallway on bare feet. 

The bathroom. Yuuri could hear the shower running. And the muffled cries... _ moans _ ...were growing louder, the closer Yuuri got to the cracked door. He wanted to call out Viktor’s name, to get his attention, but as he peered inside the bathroom, he was able to make out Viktor’s form behind the clear shower curtain. One of Viktor’s hands was gripping the wall of the shower. The other was tugging relentlessly at himself, as moans of pleasure poured from his lips. 

Yuuri’s heart began to pound watching this deeply personal, sensual moment. What was Viktor thinking about? Was he imagining Yuuri’s hand in place of his own? Was he disappointed?

Yuuri knew he had failed. It should be Yuuri’s fingers around Viktor’s hard length, Yuuri’s hand pumping fiercely and withdrawing cried of pleasure from Viktor’s wide open mouth. He hated himself as he slunk back to Viktor’s bedroom and flopped heavily down on the bed. As he pulled the covers over his head, he felt tears fill his eyes. 

He should have immediately stripped down and stepped into that shower with Viktor. He should have taken control, allowed  _ eros  _ to overcome him. But instead, he was alone in Viktor’s bed, miserable and ashamed of his own inaction...while Viktor jacked himself off in the shower. 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid,  _ he cursed himself.   _ Yuuri, you stupid weakling. You’re going to lose him. This man you’ve been in love with your entire life...you’re going to lose him.  _

After a few minutes, Viktor tiptoed silently into the bedroom. Yuuri heard him approach and pretended to be asleep, too ashamed at what he had witnessed, at his own inability to please Viktor. But, to his surprise, as Viktor fell into bed beside him, he felt a light kiss on his head. “ _ Ya vlyublyon v tebya.” _

Then, Viktor’s arms were around him, enveloping him in warmth and repose. Viktor’s nose was nestled into the space between Yuuri’s neck and his shoulder. “ _ Ya vlyublyon v tebya _ , My Yuuri,” he repeated. 

And though Yuuri couldn’t understand those words, they lulled him into a state of peace and quietude. He fell asleep shortly after, snuggled deep within Viktor’s arms. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is in Russia! Now the fun's about to start!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I'm interested to know what you think about Mania and the Snow King. (And Max, too). Because damn, is he fun to write!
> 
> Much love!
> 
> Russian Translations:  
> kraseevyi - beautiful  
> Lapochka - honey  
> a vlyublyon v tebya - I love you


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented and supported my work!
> 
> I'm having a lot of fun with this story!   
> Now we get into the nitty gritty of the beast! 
> 
> Really looking forward to hearing what you all think!

The next morning, Yuuri awoke feeling still groggy from the full day of travel prior. It took several moments of shuffling through his memories and emotions for it all to come back to him...the events of the night before. The intensity of Viktor’s lust-blown eyes and the wet warmth of his mouth…Viktor’s hand sliding up and down his own cock in the shower...

He shot up immediately with wide eyes and a face full of flush. Had that really happened? A quiet moan and soft shuffling of the blankets beside him distracted his attention towards a sleeping Viktor, proving the truth of it. It  _ had  _ happened. 

Yuuri allowed his eyes to rove over Viktor’s sleeping form. Even in his slumber, Viktor was the picture of angelic beauty. His hair was dishevelled and falling in his face, and his cheeks were the perfect shade of soft pink. His bare chest rose and fell with each delicate breath and Yuuri was amazed at how hard he had fallen for this man lying fast asleep next to him. This Viktor Nikiforov was one that was entirely Yuuri’s, reserved for Yuuri’s eyes alone.

He was all at once struck with his own love for this man. Yuuri  _ loved  _ Viktor...loved him in a way he had never loved anyone else. And the realization both excited and terrified him. With a sudden burst of confidence, Yuuri reached down to brush the stray silver hairs from Viktor’s face. The gentle touch procured a soft, contented sigh from Viktor’s lips. Yuuri could have melted into the bed at that sound. 

“Mmm…” Viktor muttered sleepily as his eyes slowly opened. They met Yuuri’s as a drowsy smile flitted across his face. “Am I dreaming? Or is Katsuki Yuuri in my bed?”

Yuuri returned the smile. “Not dreaming,” he whispered, and then Viktor’s arms were wrapping around his waist and pulling him back down flush with the mattress. 

“Then I just might be the luckiest man in the entire world…” Viktor pressed a deep kiss to Yuuri’s mouth, sucking on Yuuri’s bottom lip for a moment and procuring a moan of pleasure “This is the best I’ve felt waking up in weeks.”

Wrapped in Viktor’s arms, Yuuri could feel the pressure of Viktor’s arousal pressing into his thigh. He gasped as Viktor ground down against him and began kissing a trail down his neck to his naked chest. 

But the moment was quickly interrupted as Makkachin lumbered up onto the bed and settled down between them, offering kisses to both sleepy men. 

“Makka!” Viktor giggled playfully, rubbing his dog’s exposed belly and kissing his big floppy ears. 

Part of Yuuri was thankful for the interruption. There was still so much insecurity, so much fear. Fear of rejection, fear of not being good enough. Fear of humiliating himself in front of Viktor Nikiforov...displaying his inexperience like a brand on his forehead. What if he wasn’t able to please Viktor? What if he embarrassed himself? Said or did something stupid in the heat of the moment and ruined everything?

Completely oblivious to the internal turmoil of Yuuri’s thoughts, Viktor rose from the bed, stretching and exposing the sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders. Through the window adjacent to their bed, Yuuri could see that it was still early. The sun hadn’t yet risen...but Yuuri was feeling less and less tired by the minute. Especially seeing Viktor moving around the home that was now  _ theirs,  _ wearing nothing over his bare chest, and a pair of pajama pants sitting low on his hips. 

“Up for coming to the rink with me today?” Viktor asked as he headed into the kitchen, beckoning for Yuuri to follow. 

Some of Yuuri’s anxiety dissolved with those words and he nodded excitedly. It had been a dream of his for as long as he could remember...to see the rink that Viktor Nikiforov trained on. “Of course!”

Viktor brightened at Yuuri’s enthusiasm. “Great! Yurio will be happy to see you, even if he won’t show it. And the others have all been dying to see you as well. Max has been really excited to meet you in person!”

Yuuri stiffened, shuffling on his feet. “Max? He’ll be there?”

Viktor turned with a raised eyebrow. “Of course. He’s been meeting me there for practice every day.” He said the words like they should have been obvious, but the thought of Max being close to Viktor, seeing him every single day made Yuuri feel slightly nauseous.

“I thought I could show you my programs...there’s no pressure for you to skate or anything. I’m sure you’re still tired…”Viktor paused, seeming to notice Yuuri’s discontent. He approached with arms outstretched, to place a hand under Yuuri’s chin. “Oh My Yuuri, what’s wrong? Why are you so worried about Max, hmm?”

Yuuri crossed his arms in front of his chest, unable to meet that powerfully potent ocean-blue gaze. “I’m not worried…” he muttered and Viktor just laughed, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. 

“That’s good. You shouldn’t be worried. Because Max is Max. And  _ you  _ are  _ My Yuuri _ . He’s merely acting as my coach and choreographer. And you...are my world.”

Yuuri couldn’t help it then. His wide brown eyes flashed back to Viktor’s face at those words. “ _ Ty moy mir _ ,” Viktor repeated, this time in Russian and Yuuri blushed.  Viktor gently ran his fingers over Yuuri’s pink cheeks, smiling at the shudder that ran down Yuuri’s spine and the twitch of his eyelashes against his glasses. “I love making you blush, My Yuuri.” 

Viktor pressed a kiss to each of Yuuri’s cheeks, and then, for good measure, pressed another to his mouth. They stood there for a moment, parting each other’s lips with their tongues, completely lost in the embrace. Viktor’s hands traced circles up and down Yuuri’s backs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

When he finally pulled away, Yuuri felt dizzy and unsteady on his own feet. Viktor smirked, moving back to the fridge, where he pulled out a carton of eggs and some milk. “Would you like some scrambled eggs, My Yuuri?”

Yuuri staggered closer. His  _ head _ was scrambled. He nodded. “Sure,” his voice was a hoarse scratch from a throat thick with lust. 

Viktor chuckled as he set to making breakfast. 

* * *

 

By the time they arrived at the rink, Yuuri’s anxiety had once again reared its ugly head. Viktor grabbed his hand and squeezed it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “You ready for this?” he whispered.

“I’m not sure,” Yuuri attempted a nervous laugh and Viktor smiled. 

“You’ll be fine. They’re all so excited to see you.” He laced his fingers through Yuuri’s before pushing the door open, and enveloping them in the crisp artificial cold of the skate rink. 

“Yuuri’s here!” Yuuri recognized Mila’s voice as she skated up to the edge of the rink, her bright blue eyes shining in excitement. “Welcome to Russia, Yuuri!” 

She stepped off the ice to throw her arms around him in an embrace, and the warm welcome helped to melt some of Yuuri’s nervousness. Before he knew it, Yurio and Georgi, and even Yakov had appeared to greet them. 

“We should all go out for dinner some time this week to celebrate you being here!” Mila said in her singsong of a voice. “And Europeans coming up in two weeks! You’ll come with us to Euros, right, Yuuri?”

Yuuri flushed at all the attention. It was only after he felt Viktor’s hand weaving around his waist that he began to relax. “Of course he’ll be there. Won’t you Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yea. I want to support you all!” Though Yuuri himself wouldn’t be competing again until Four Continents, the thought of being away from Viktor was unbearable. And being able to see him skate  _ Mania  _ and  _ Snow King _ in person sounded close to a dream.

“So it looks like I’ll have someone to hang out with after all!” Yuuri turned to see Maxim Volkov, for the first time in the flesh, as he approached and extended a long arm out to shake Yuuri’s hand. And dammit...he was even more handsome in person. 

That long dark hair was piled up on top of his head and his green eyes shimmered as he smiled down at Yuuri, tall and rippled with muscles. He towered over Viktor and Georgi both, all lean, taut muscles and dancer’s limbs. He was wearing a tight pair of black joggers that were cinched at the ankles, and his skintight black V-neck exposed just enough chest to be distracting. And annoying...

“I’m Max, but you know that don’t you, Yuuri?” Yuuri hesitantly took Max’s hand and shook it, doing his best to appear calm and unthreatened. “It’s good to finally meet Viktor’s success story!” Max nudged Viktor and winked at him in a way that made Yuuri’s skin crawl. 

“I like to think _ I’m  _ Yuuri’s success story,” Viktor said with a gentle smile. 

Max laughed and shrugged. “Well, however you want to phrase it. It’ll be good to have someone to have a drink with while you’re all skating your asses off at Euros.”

Yuuri did his best to hide his disdain. He had no interest whatsoever in “having a drink” with this man. Or spending any extra time with that smarmy face. He couldn’t place it...the reason he hated this man so much. Maxim Volkov set him on edge. But for Viktor...for Viktor he had to ignore that feeling, had to push it down. Because whether Yuuri liked it or not, Max had choreographed two stunning programs that had helped Viktor win Russian Nationals. Two programs that had taken Yuuri’s breath away. 

“Are you going to show Yuuri your programs?” Max asked Viktor with raised eyebrows, and Viktor flushed slightly as he turned to Yuuri. 

“Do you want to see them, Yuuri…?”

Yuuri brightened. “Of course I do!”

Viktor beamed at him, an eager smile occupying his face. “Great! Let me get my skates!”

As Viktor scurried off to the locker room, Yakov barked at his skaters, charging them to get back onto the ice. Left alone with Max, Yuuri felt like a fish out of water, sputtering awkwardly for air. Max smirked and put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. “Come on Yuuri. Let’s go get a good spot. You know Viktor...he’ll want to show off. I’ll show you my favorite spot to watch.”

Yuuri wanted to brush that hand off his shoulder, but instead, he nodded and followed Max over to the edge of the rink, settling against the barrier. As they waited for Viktor, Max studied Yuuri with those huge green eyes. “So, Yuuri. What do you think of Russia?”

Yuuri met his eyes questioningly. “I...haven’t seen much of it yet. It’s very different from Hasetsu. But Viktor’s apartment is nice.”

Max’s lips curled into a smirk. “Isn't’ it though? Our Viktor did always love the finer things in life...”

Yuuri bristled.  _ Our  _ Viktor? The way Max talked about Viktor...about his apartment...had he been there before? How well did they actually know each other?

“How...how did you and Viktor meet?” Yuuri wasn’t sure why he asked the question...part of him dreaded knowing the answer. But Max raised an eyebrow in response. 

“He didn’t tell you? Hmm...well I was a skater for a while. I would go back and forth between dancing and skating...and inevitably my talent strayed more towards ballet shoes and away from skates. But we stayed friends. Lilia is like a mother to me. She and Yakov basically raised me. I’m sure you know the same is true for Viktor…”

Yuuri nodded. He  _ did _ know that Viktor and Yakov had been close while Viktor grew up. But when he came to think of it, he really didn’t know much else about Viktor’s childhood. Nothing about his parents, his family, his circumstances. 

“Well, we got really close when we were teenagers. There was a time when I thought Viktor was  _ the one _ .” Yuuri’s eyes flashed to Max’s face, trying to discern the truth of his words...had they dated? If so, why hadn’t Viktor mentioned it? “But that all seems so silly now...the silly dreams of a silly little boy,” Max continued. “We’ve always been better off as friends. Besides...now he has  _ you _ , doesn’t he?”

Yuuri swallowed hard, not sure of what to say. Luckily, at that moment, Viktor stole up behind him and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist, towering over him in his skates. “What are you two talking about?” he purred and Max smiled widely. 

“About you, of course.”

Yuuri flushed, but Viktor seemed unphased, perhaps even pleased at the thought that Yuuri and Max had had his name on their tongues. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Oh, Viktor,” Max hummed. “What else is there?”

Before Viktor moved onto the ice, he again took Yuuri’s hand in his own and kissed the top of it. As he took his spot at the center of the rink, preparing to begin  _ Mania,  _ Yuuri’s chest felt constricted. There was so much, it seemed, that he didn’t know about this man...this man he loved and trusted. Was Viktor purposely hiding things from him, purposely keeping certain items from his past a secret? 

“Make it nice and pretty for us, yea?” Max yelled and Viktor smirked before assuming his opening pose. 

As he began to move, to writhe and churn with the music in his head, Yuuri’s heart burned in desire. Viktor was so beautiful on the ice, so compelling and mesmerizing in person. It seemed obvious that anyone who watched him skate would fall in love with him. But for some reason, Viktor had chosen Yuuri. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

“He really is breathtaking, isn’t he?” Max asked, his eyes only for Viktor. 

Yuuri nodded. “Yes. The program you created is...beautiful.”

“But it's not really the program, is it? It's the story he tells with his body. Without Viktor, this program would be just like any other…” Yuuri couldn’t disagree with Max’s words. If anyone else skated this program...Yurio, Georgi even Yuuri himself...it wouldn’t be the same. There was a chaotic fluidity, a passionate desperation evident in this performance that was Viktor’s alone. 

“Almost makes you want to bend him over and sink your teeth into him, doesn’t it?” Max asked with an eyebrow raised and Yuuri felt heat rise to his face. 

“What did you say?” He growled, but Max merely laughed. 

“Oh I meant no harm. Trust me. I’ve been there before. I know how dangerous those waters can be to navigate. And I have no interest in going back there again. Too much pain. Too much confusion. You can put your hackles down, puppy. I have no interest in stealing your  _ Master. _ ”

Yuuri’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he forced himself to remain calm. He would not rise to Max’s taunting. Would not let Max get under his skin. Because as much as he denied it, Max was obviously still attracted to Viktor. But at the end of the day, Viktor was going  _ home  _ with Yuuri. And Maxim Volkov was going home alone. 

When Viktor had finished, he skated up to the edge of the rink, sweaty and smiling. “What did you think?” he called out to Yuuri. 

“Amazing, Viktor. It was even better in person!” Yuuri crooned. But at his side, Max crossed his arms, evidently displeased. 

“Viktor, you’re getting sloppy. You’re missing some of that crispness. That pop. We talked about this before.” His tone was stern and reprimanding and Yuuri balked at Max’s words. Viktor’s performance had been perfect. Flawless, clean...perfect. 

But Viktor nodded in response. “I was afraid of that,” he murmured. 

“Do you have some time today to stop by my studio? Maybe going over some of the moves on the floor will help you get your bearings back.”  

Viktor looked torn at Max’s request. “I don’t know...It’s Yuuri’s first day and I wanted to show him around…”

“Bring him along,” Max chided. Viktor’s eyes flashed to Yuuri, then, as if seeking his response, his permission. 

Yuuri nodded. Of course he wanted to support Viktor. Of course. He would do whatever Viktor needed to better his performance. If that was what Viktor thought he needed...Yuuri would endure spending more time with Maxim Volkov to ensure Viktor felt supported. 

“Yea, of course we can go.”

“Great!” Max slapped Yuuri on the back, sending a shockwave of pain and irritation down Yuuri’s spine. “Hey Yakov! I’m taking these two to my studio for a bit!”

Yakov grumbled something in Russian and waved them off with a scowl that nearly matched Yuiro’s. 

When Max looked back at Viktor and Yuuri, his face was a mask of exhilaration. “Let’s get going, then!”

* * *

 

Max’s studio was similar to Minako’s, back in Hasetsu. It was a small, squat, one-story building with one main room and a long expanse of barres that ran the length of the large, open space. The floors were hardwood and shining as Max turned the key in the lock and held the door open for first Yuuri, and then Viktor, to enter. 

As they settled, Max flicked on the lights to reveal a long series of mirrors lining the walls and spot-lights that brightened the room. Yuuri had spent enough hours in a ballet studio to know that this was standard and well-suited for a dancer’s needs. 

“Like the set-up, Yuuri?” Max asked and Yuuri nodded, attempting to be as non-confrontational as possible. 

“Yea, it’s great. Do you teach classes?”

“I do,” Max brightened proudly. “Can’t support myself on dancing alone.”

Viktor smirked, slipping into a pair of ballet shoes. “He’s being modest. He  _ could  _ support himself. But he’s always liked to coach. Haven’t you, Max?”

The playful banter was beginning to make Yuuri feel woozy. 

“Hence why I leapt at your request,” Max agreed. “How could I ever say no to  _ the Living Legend, Viktor Nikiforov?” _

Viktor rolled his eyes as he got to his feet, all long limbs and tight muscles. Yuuri drank in the sight of him, standing tall in his pointe shoes. He wasn’t as lean and feminine as Yurio, but still, there was no denying Viktor’s beauty. If he wasn’t so well-suited to the skating life, he might have made himself a successful career in ballet...just as Max had. Yuuri thanked his lucky stars that Viktor loved skating as much as he did. 

“Ok, now let’s go through it,” Max said. He slipped a disc into the CD player against the wall, and Viktor’s  _ Mania  _ music began its interlude. 

Yuuri watched as Viktor took his position in the center of the dance floor. As the music began to pick up in tempo, and Viktor’s movements became quicker and more chaotic, Max moved in closer, sliding his arms around Viktor’s waist and guiding him from behind. At first, Yuuri wasn’t too bothered by it. It was merely a coach and choreographer guiding his student’s movements. But then...something seemed to change. 

Max’s hands began to grip at Viktor’s chest, at his thighs, at his ass, roving and grasping as they spun and wove in a desperate, tumultuous back and forth. It was all in the guise of tightening Viktor’s movements, keeping him clean and sharp. But Yuuri could  _ see _ . The mirrors that were hung from every wall allowed him to see  _ everything  _ from every angle imaginable. 

Max was gasping into Viktor’s neck, his lips grazing the sweat-soaked skin at the base of Viktor’s hairline. As Viktor moved, Max moved with him, clinging to him, grinding against him, guiding him, leading him, commanding him. 

Yuuri felt sick. “I...I need some air,” he rose to his feet and stumbled towards the door of the studio, grabbing his coat on the way out. 

“Yuuri - !” Viktor gasped, reaching out for him, but Yuuri ignored him, stepping outside into the freezing cold air. 

He was so hot, so angry, so upset, that he almost couldn’t feel the cold at all. He could feel tears stinging his eyes, threatening to fall down his cheeks. It was all too much, seeing another man touch Viktor that way...with such ease. Max wasn’t afraid of Viktor. He wasn’t afraid of touching Viktor, of running his hands all over Viktor’s body.  And Viktor hadn’t seemed to mind the touch of those hands. 

“Yuuri…” Viktor’s voice, Viktor’s arms around his shoulders. Viktor’s fingers cupping his chin and raising his face  to force him to meet Viktor’s eyes. “Yuuri, what’s going on? Are you ok? You just...you just left. Are you feeling alright?”

Yuuri nodded sheepishly. Viktor had no idea...either that, or he was playing innocent. Yuuri wasn’t sure which was worse. “Can we...can we go back to your apartment? I’m not...I’m not feeling…”

“Yes, of course!” Viktor said without hesitation, pulling Yuuri into an embrace. “Of course. This has all been a lot. Too much. Come on. Let’s go home.”

Yuuri stirred slightly. “What about Max?”

Viktor shook his head. “I’ll send him a text. He’ll understand. Come on, let’s go.”

Once they were back in the safety and comfort of Viktor’s apartment, Yuuri excused himself to take a shower. As he let the hot water fall over his skin, he allowed his tears to flow. This had been what he had wanted for so long. It had been his dream. To live with Viktor. To be with Viktor. To be completely his. But now Yuuri was here. In Russia. A stranger in a strange land, surrounded by people he barely knew. He was about as far away from home as he had ever been. And even with Viktor at his side, he was lonely. 

A knock at the bathroom door startled him.  _ Viktor.  _ Yuuri choked back a sob in an effort to silence himself. 

“Yuuri...are you ok? Are you...crying?”

“No…” Yuuri snapped. 

Silence outside the door. Yuuri knew Viktor was thinking...then, without warning, Yuuri heard him make up his mind. “I’m coming in.”

“No!” Yuuri gasped, but before he knew it, Viktor was opening the door, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the shower with him, fully dressed. Without asking any questions or demanding any answers, Viktor scooped Yuuri’s naked body into his arms and allowed the water to pelt down on both of them. 

It should have been enough to cause Yuuri’s length to grow hard, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was be held by Viktor, to melt into his arms. And Viktor asked nothing of him, just holding into him with strong arms, until Yuuri finally began to feel better. 

Once they had both showered and toweled off, and Viktor had successfully bundled Yuuri in a plush white towel, Viktor studied Yuuri carefully, his deep ocean-blue eyes wide and imploring. “Yuuri, please tell me what’s wrong,” Viktor whispered. “Is it about Max?”

Yuuri’s throat tightened. He was terrified to ask the question, but he knew that he needed to hear the answer. Desperately. For his own sanity. He needed the truth.  “Did you...and he...did you date him?”

Viktor didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t flinch. “Yes,” he said. “But it was a long time ago. And it ended in such a way...we could never be more than friends again. I don’t  _ want  _ to be more than friends. You have to understand that, Yuuri. I do not have any type of romantic feelings for Max.”

“How...how did it end?” Yuuri asked. 

Viktor grimaced, sighing heavily. “Not well.” Yuuri waited expectantly, not wanting to push but not ready to let the subject die. Yuuri was sure Viktor could see his anticipation, and after a moment, he continued, clearly obliging Yuuri’s fascination. “Max was..I think...at the end of the day, Max was in love with the Viktor Nikiforov that he wanted me to be.The Viktor the rest of the world sees. But that person isn’t me. I’m messy and I’m a lot to handle. And Max wanted this perfection. He wanted  _ The Living Legend  _ on his arm when he went to parties and events. And when I told him that I couldn’t be that person, he lost it. He says I broke his heart. I see things differently. But either way, there’s nothing more than friendship there now.”

“What ended up happening?” Yuuri asked with wide brown eyes. “How did you decide to stay friends with him?”

Viktor was tense, Yuuri could see if from the tightness of his shoulders. “Max can be...hurtful when he’s been hurt. He said some things that he can’t take back. And he knows that. When I ended things, I thought he’d lost his mind. He threatened to kill himself....drank himself into a stupor...almost lost his position in the ballet. And for a long time, I separated myself from it. But a few years ago, he reached back out. And he apologized profusely. And he reminded me that…” Viktor paused. “That we’ve been through a lot together. And I forgave him. And since then, its been better. He hasn’t pushed. He’s been really supportive. And I guess I just feel like...I owe it to him… for everything I’ve put him through.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “You don’t owe him anything, Viktor,” he said. “He’s clearly still in love with you. The way he talks about you…”

“Yuuri, stop it.” Viktor’s voice was harsh, his sharp tone sending a chill through Yuuri’s body. The set of Viktor’s brow and the intensity in Viktor’s eyes told Yuuri that the conversation was finished. In evident exhaustion, Viktor sighed heavily, bringing a hand to his forehead to massage his temples. “I’m sorry, Yuuri. Please just trust me. There’s only you. For me, there’s only you.”

Yuuri approached and wrapped Viktor in his arms. It was enough. He had to trust Viktor. Had to have faith in what they had. And as Viktor returned the embrace, and rested his head on Yuuri’s stomach, all felt right in the world. 

“I adore you, My Yuuri. You have to know that,” Viktor looked up at him with soft eyes filled with tears. 

“I know. I adore  _ you _ , Vitya.” Yuuri bent down to kiss Viktor’s lips, to gently run a hand through his hair. “I trust you.”

That night, Viktor pulled him into bed, and Yuuri allowed those diligent, thin hands to pick him apart piece by piece, removing his robe and settling over every inch of his naked body. But this time, Yuuri was prepared. This time, Viktor’s pleasure would come from Yuuri and no one else. 

It wasn’t long before Yuuri was completely naked in Viktor’s bed, completely exposed to Viktor in a way he never had been before. Yes, they had seen each other naked. But not like this. Never in the throws of passion, when both of them were fully aroused and desperate for one another. In a stroke of total reckless abandon, Yuuri began pulling away Viktor’s robes as well, sliding them down to reveal the perfectly soft skin beneath. And then, they were both naked. Skin on skin, pressed against one another, rutting and grinding and sighing heavily. 

“Oh...my god….Yuuri,” Viktor moaned into Yuuri’s open mouth. 

Yuuri forced himself to channel  _ eros,  _ to allow that persona to course through his veins. And before he could stop himself, he grasped Viktor’s cock in his hand, and slid his fingers down and over the leaking slit. 

Viktor gasped, pumping into Yuuri’s hand desperately. “Yuuri…” he purred. 

“Good?” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor groaned, his long silver eyelashes fluttering closed as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“So good, Yuuri. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Yuuri ground his hips into Viktor’s thigh as he stroked Viktor’s solid member. Nothing had ever felt as good as this, as feeling Viktor writhing and gasping beneath him. Yuuri was causing his pleasure. Yuuri and no one else. 

Yuuri felt he could do this forever. The friction of Viktor’s thigh against his aching cock was sending shockwaves up his spine, catapulting him into pleasure like he’d never experienced. 

“I’ve wanted you like this...for so long... “ Viktor whispered breathlessly. 

There was so going back now. Now that Yuuri knew what he’d been missing for all this time.

“Feels so good,” Yuuri muttered, and Viktor smiled. 

“Here, let me.” Viktor slipped a hand between Yuuri’s legs to gently take his cock between his nimble fingers. “Move your hips up for me, love,” he whispered and Yuuri complied so that Viktor could easily wrap his hands around both of their cocks and pump them together in unison.

_ So good, so good. It feels so good. _ But again, Viktor was doing all the work. Barely able to breathe, Yuuri croaked out, “No. Let me do it. Please, Vitya.”

Viktor swooned slightly as he nodded, his head falling back as Yuuri’s hands took the place of his own. 

It didn’t take long for Viktor to begin whimpering out a string of Russian that Yuuri couldn’t understand. But, the seductive, wrecked tone of Viktor’s voice urged him on, compelling his movements as he fucked into his own hand and against Viktor rock-solid cock. He could feel the heat of his orgasm building in his stomach, preparing to crash down over him. And he could see from the way Viktor’s hand gripped the sheets, that he was close as well. 

“Yuuri...Yuuri...oh my god. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!” Viktor cried out only moments before spilling into Yuuri’s hands. The sticky wetness of Viktor’s come sliding down Yuuri’s shaft pushed Yuuri over the brink as well, and he gave in to the blinding white light of his own completion. 

He collapsed at Viktor’s side, face up so as not to allow their mess to marr the soft and silky sheets of Viktor’s bed.  _ Our  _ bed, Yuuri corrected himself.  _ Our  _ bed.  _ Our  _ home.  _ Our  _ life _.  _

Yuuri felt Viktor’s lips against the top of his head. “Thank you, My Yuuri. For trusting me. For being with me.”

Yuuri smiled. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

In the weeks that followed leading up to Europeans, Yuuri was determined not to allow Max to get into his head. With Viktor acting as both Yuuri’s coach and his fellow competitor, Yuuri was forced to share Viktor with both Max and Yakov, and to share the ice with him as well. 

They would practice off and on. When it was time for Yuuri to skate, his coach would give his full and undivided attention. And when it was Viktor’s turn to take the ice, Yuuri would stand tight-lipped and silent next to Max and watch. 

After a few awkwardly uncommunicative days, Max finally broke that silence. 

“So, Yuuri...I wanted to say…” Yuuri turned a narrowed eye to meet Max’s gaze, waiting for the smart or sarcastic comment that was about to come. “I’m sorry if I upset you or overstepped my boundaries with my actions towards Viktor. It wasn’t my intention.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow in suspicion and surprise. He didn’t know what to say, but Max continued. “I know how I can appear...I know I come off as a little... _ touchy _ . But that’s just the Frenchman in me...I don’t mean anything by it. I know how Viktor feels about you. And I would never try to get in the way of that. I was hoping...we could be friends. I want to be...if you’re open to that?”

Max’s green eyes were open and beseeching. Almost gentle. And sincere. And though Yuuri still wasn’t sure if he could trust this man, he  _ wanted  _ to. For Viktor, he wanted to give up his grudge and move on. Make it easier for all of them. 

After a moment’s contemplation, Yuuri finally nodded. “Yea...I’d like that.” He held out a hand, and Max smiled as he took it. 

“Great!” He put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and squeezed. “That’s great, Yuuri. You really are the best.” 

Yuuri flushed. Perhaps he had simply misread the situation. This wouldn’t be the first time he had done so. And in the next few days, Yuuri felt things begin to improve. They didn’t go back to Max’s studio, instead spending all of their training and coaching sessions on the ice. And for the most part, Max kept his hands to himself. 

By the time they departed for Europeans, Yuuri was feeling at peace with the whole situation. The flight to Vienna was smooth and short - only about 2 hours long, and Viktor held his hand the entire time. 

“You’re going to love Vienna, My Yuuri,” Viktor leaned into him and purred into his ear. “It’s the City of Music!”

“Have you been to Vienna before?” Yuuri asked and Viktor nodded. 

“Once. But this time will be much more special because you’ll be there with me.” He kissed Yuuri’s cheek. “Every memory I make with you by my side becomes my new favorite memory.”

The heat that radiated through them as Viktor took Yuuri’s lips in his own was enough to start the entire plane on fire. Yuuri felt the passion of that kiss in his bones, radiating all the way down to his toes, and settling in his groin. 

Their intimacy had grown in the weeks since they’d moved in together. But still, Yuuri hadn’t had the courage to initiate. And though he wanted to have sex with Viktor... _ badly _ ...the thought still caused him anxiety and trepidation. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if it hurt? Would Viktor still want to be with him if he messed everything up? If he made a fool of himself?

Viktor was constantly telling him that everything was fine. That they would take their time. That it would happen when they were both ready. But Viktor, it seemed,  _ was  _ ready. And how much longer would he be willing to wait?   
  


* * *

 

Shortly after  their arrival in Vienna, Yakov informed them all of a “Competitors Only” Social Mixer that was to take place that night. So, around 8:00 pm, after the Russian team had departed, Maxim Volkov showed up at Yuuri’s hotel room door with a bottle of vodka in hand.

“Hi there, Yuuri. Would you care to join me for a drink?” His voice was smooth and his eyes were earnest, and though Yuuri’s skin crawled at the thought of drinking alone with Max, he remembered their truce...Max’s desire to “be friends.” So, he nodded despite his best instincts. 

“Sure...do you want...to come in?” Yuuri stepped aside to allow Max entrance and the larger man smiled. 

“Yea. That’s great. Thanks, Yuuri.” He put a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder as he pushed past, taking a seat on the King-sized bed Yuuri and Viktor were to share that night. 

“Do you have a glass?” Max asked, gesturing to the vodka he held in hand and Yuuri nodded, retrieving two glasses that had been set up along the table near the back of the room. 

“Thanks,” Max said, pouring himself a tall glass. Then, without asking, he filled a second and handed it over to Yuuri with expectant eyes. 

Yuuri took it hesitantly, running his finger over the lip of the glass. Drinking with this man didn’t seem like the best idea…

Max smirked and patted the empty spot on the bed next to himself. “Come on, Yuuri. Sit and have a drink with me. I promise I won’t bite.”

Hesitantly, Yuuri did as he was told, moving closer, but not close enough to touch. Max leaned back with his glass in hand, taking a large swig. “Ahh Yuuri...what are we going to do with you, hmm?”

Yuuri eyed him speculatively. “What do you mean?”

“You really swooped in and changed everything, didn’t you?” Max winked at him. “Viktor’s life...his skating...his views on the world. Hell...you probably even changed his preferences in bed…”

Yuuri’s face lit up, bright red in color and Max laughed. “Oh, Yuuri...I bet you are a freak, aren’t you? Quiet little minx like you...I’ve seen you skate  _ Eros... _ tell me, do you bring that into the bedroom as well?”

_ “ _ That’s not any of your business - !” Yuuri shot, and Max raised his hands in surrender. 

“You’re right, you’re right. There I am, overstepping again! I’m sorry!” He took another long sip, his face growing slightly flushed. “It’s just...I have a hard time imagining anyone fucking Viktor the way I used to...Ahh,  _ god… _ ”

Yuuri was feeling sick again. He wanted to slam a fist right into Max’s pretty face, wanted to knock him backwards, head over heels off the bed. But, instead, he nearly twined his fingers over the glass in his hands, willing himself to stay calm and steady. 

Max seemed to notice Yuuri’s displeasure, and he sighed heavily in response. “I’m sorry, Yuuri. It’s just hard to get over passion like that... _ mania... _ you know? What Viktor and I had was  _ manic. _ It was  _ feral.  _ …There were times...before  _ you  _ of course...when he would call me up just for a good fuck. When I was done, he could barely walk for days…” He huffed a small chuckle that had Yuuri’s skin crawling in revulsion. “Viktor’s appetite has always been...insatiable. But...I’m sure it’s the same with you and him as well.”

“I’m sorry...I...I don’t want to talk about this,” Yuuri said coldly, attempting to remain aloof and unresponsive to the provocation, even though his heart was pounding behind his ribs. 

But Max was studying him with wide green eyes. His mouth was hanging agape as a smile of realization slowly dawned over his features. “Yuuri….surely you don’t mean...that you and Viktor haven’t…?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Yuuri snapped and the smile fell from Max’s face. 

“Ok, ok. No worries. I guess some men are just more private than others…”

“What do you want, Max?” Yuuri asked, standing from the bed and setting his glass down on the nightstand to his right.

“What do you mean?” Max was looking at Yuuri in pure shock, his eyes huge as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Why are you here? Just to rub your past relationship with Viktor in my face? To try and push us apart? It’s not going to work. I love…” he paused. He hadn’t ever said those words to Viktor. He couldn’t say them for the first time to  _ Max,  _ of all people.  But Max had already heard. 

“You love him,” Max said, and Yuuri swallowed hard before nodding. 

“I do. And I’m not going to back down. Or run away. Nothing you can say...is going to push me away from him.”

Max smirked and lifted his glass in the air. “Cheers to that.” He rose to his feet and again, patted Yuuri on the back, this time more gently. Almost sympathetic. As he headed towards the door, Max placed his hand on the knob and paused. “I hope it works out for you, Yuuri.”

And he shut the door hard on his way out. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...now we know who Max is...why do I love writing the devious characters so much?
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Yuuri is getting more confident...and I just love Viktor so much. 
> 
> Much love, all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!!!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who continues to support this work! This chapter was a beast to right. Soooo long. So hope you enjoy!
> 
> The plot keeps thickening! I can't wait to see what you all think!

By the time Viktor returned from the competitor’s mixer, Yuuri had already turned in for the night, though he hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Despite his best attempts to turn off his mind, Max’s words continued to churn inside his head, keeping him awake. 

_ What Viktor and I had was  _ manic _. It was  _ feral _. … _

_ There were times when he would call me up just for a good fuck. When I was done, he could barely walk for days…  _

_ Viktor’s appetite has always been...insatiable. _

“Yuuri?” Viktor whispered as he slipped into the room. It was late, well past midnight, but the light was still on as Yuuri carelessly flipped through the channels on the television set. “What are you still doing up,  _ Lapochka?” _

Yuuri shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep…”

As Viktor drew nearer, he slipped his arms around Yuuri’s chest and pressed a kiss to his lips. “What’s wrong?”

The last thing Yuuri wanted to do was worry Viktor, to cause him any unrest the night before this important competition. So he shook his head and leaned in for another kiss. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Just missing you.”

Viktor smiled sleepily. “You’re so cute, My Yuuri.” Yuuri could faintly smell alcohol on Viktor’s breath. It was neither strong nor unpleasant, but it was evident that Viktor was slightly buzzed after the events of the evening. 

“Did you have fun?” Yuuri asked and Viktor nodded. 

“I suppose. Though, it would have been more fun with you there…” His eyelids were drooping where he sat on the edge of the bed. A large yawn overtook him and Yuuri sat up to start sliding Viktor’s black suit jacket off his shoulders. 

“Come on. You need sleep,” he mumbled as Viktor leaned against him. 

“In a hurry to undress me, Yuuri?” His voice was thick and heady, a mixture of lust and the alcohol still flowing through his veins. Yuuri rolled his eyes. 

“Not tonight, Viktor. You have a competition in the morning…”

Viktor stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “Why, my Yuuuuri?  I’m not even sleepy…” Another yawn. Yuuri couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Liar,” he whispered, kissing Viktor on the top of his silver head. “Come on. Bed. Now.”

Viktor rose from the bed, pulling at the knot of his tie. “Shower first...want to join?”

_ Viktor’s appetite has always been...insatiable. _

Yuuri flushed. “Not tonight, Viktor. Hurry up in there. The bed is cold without you.”

By the time Viktor was freshly showered and stumbling into bed, it was well past 1:00 am, but Yuuri’s mind still had not stopped swimming with images of Viktor and Max, their bodies entwined in the heat of passion. And Viktor gasping out Max’s name instead of Yuuri’s. 

 

* * *

Yuuri was sure he looked an absolute wreck as he and Viktor entered the rink for the first day of competition in Vienna. He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. Every time he had closed his eyes, unpleasant visions of his fiance and Maxim Volkov had plagued his mind.

So now, watching Max approach them with a broad smile that indicated nothing of their intense conversation the night prior, Yuuri felt a surge of irritation. He gritted his teeth inside his skull. 

“Good morning, my beauties,” Max chimed enthusiastically, slapping an open hand against the firm muscles of Viktor’s ass. Yuuri blanched, feeling suddenly nauseous. “Ready for your big performance,  _ Vitya _ ?”

Viktor smirked. “Of course.”

“Did you already draw?”

“I’m going last.”

“That’s perfect. They save the  _ Living Legend _ until the very end, keeping the audience waiting with bated breath,” Max’s voice was a silky drawl, his dark eyelashes fluttering coyly as he gazed adoringly at Viktor. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite ice couple?” Christophe Giacometti was drawing towards them with a sly grin. As they turned to greet him, his eyes widened. “No way. Is that Maxim fucking Volkov?”

“Chris Giacometti! Long time, friend!” Max scooped Chris up in an embrace, slapping a heavy hand on his back. “Should have known you’d be here!”

“ _ Mais, oui... _ So I assume the rumors are true, then? You really choreographed Viktor’s programs?”

“He did,” Viktor chimed brightly. “Hi Chris!”

“Viktor! Yuuri! Congratulations on your National wins!” 

“Congrats on yours as well, Chris!” Viktor was beaming as he wove his fingers through Yuuri’s. 

Chris smirked. “So, Yuuri. How are you enjoying Russia?” His eyebrows peaked suggestively as his eyes flashed between Viktor and Yuuri and their clasped hands. 

“I...like it…” Yuuri managed and Chris chuckled. 

“I’m sure you do…” His eyes roved over Viktor’s form in his tight red suit pants. “But how is it for you, Viktor? Living with our little Yuuri here?”

Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “Like a dream come true.”

Yuuri flushed as the commentators called for the start of the 30 minute warm up. Viktor moved to slip out of his white and red competition jacket and head out onto the ice, but not before planting a soft kiss on Yuuri’s blushing cheek. 

As Chris joined Viktor on the ice, Yuuri was once again left alone with Max, who eyed him with warm yet contemplative eyes. 

“You look like shit, Yuuri…” he said lowly and Yuuri’s eyes narrowed in defense. 

“ _ Thanks a lot _ ...” he growled sarcastically, but Max only laughed. 

“I meant no offense...you just look like you didn’t get any sleep. Did Viktor keep you up all night?”

“I slept fine,” Yuuri snapped, closing himself off by crossing his arms over his chest and focusing his attention on Viktor’s form spinning on the ice. 

Max moved in closer so their shoulders were touching ever so slightly. “Well, either way, I wanted to thank you for having a drink with me last night. It was nice to just relax and take the edge off.”

Yuuri shrugged in response. “Yea…” he muttered.

He could feel Max’s eyes boring into him, though he refused to acknowledge them. “Yuuri...did I upset you? With what I said about Viktor?”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri growled, but Max persisted. 

“Yuuri...we’re supposed to be friends now. If I overstepped a boundary, I need to know.”

Yuuri sighed.  _ Friends.  _ He wasn’t sure if it would ever be possible for him to truly consider this man a  _ friend.  _ He owed him nothing. Not an explanation. Not forgiveness. “It’s fine,” Yuuri repeated. “Let’s just...drop it.”

Max nodded. “I’m sure it’s not easy to hear about your partner being with someone else. But, honestly Yuuri, I’m just trying to do you a favor. I  _ know  _ Viktor. I know how he can be. And I know how much you  _ like  _ him. But Viktor’s not someone who will be satisfied in a relationship without sex. Look at how he’s skating right now. He’s fucking begging for it. I just don’t want you to get hurt. If you can’t deliver...I’m not sure how long Viktor is going to stick around.”

Yuuri felt dizzy. He gripped onto the rail of the rink for support as his head spun. Max put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I’m just trying to be a friend to you, Yuuri. If you can’t please Viktor...he’ll find it somewhere else. And believe you me...it won’t be hard for him to find it. Hell, he could get Chris to fuck him in a random storeroom in a matter of minutes if he wanted to.”

Was it true? Was Max right? Yuuri remembered the night of his arrival in Russia. Viktor’s hand stroking himself to completion. Yuuri’s inability to please him. How many times had Viktor come on to him, only to be rejected by Yuuri’s fears and anxieties? How many times had Viktor snuck off to the bathroom to relieve the tension when he was sure Yuuri wasn’t watching? Yuuri was failing him. And eventually, Yuuri would lose him. 

“You know I’m right, don’t you, Yuuri? You’ve seen that lust in Viktor’s eyes. You’ve seen how he gets...How could you not have, living with him…”

“I...I don’t want to talk about it anymore, ok? Just let it drop.” Yuuri’s voice was like the crack of a whip, dry, raspy and sharp. 

Max nodded. “Yea, sure. Whatever you say, Yuuri. Just want you to know that you can come to me if you need to talk. Sometimes it's easier with someone who’s been there.”

Yuuri followed Max’s gaze out onto the ice to watch Viktor’s breathless performance. Even surrounded by the other skaters, he was the center of attention, far surpassing everyone else in sheer passion and beauty. Yuuri longed for him with everything he had. And in that moment, his mind was made up. He had to give himself to Viktor. Or risk losing him forever. 

 

* * *

It didn’t happen that night. Viktor was too exhausted from competition and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Yuuri watched him sleep for a while before closing his own eyes. There was a part of him that was terrified. Terrified that perhaps this man with whom he was desperately in love...wasn’t really the man Yuuri thought he was.

“Yuuri…” Viktor muttered in his sleep, reaching out for him. Yuuri took Viktor’s searching hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. 

“I love you, Vitya,” he whispered, snuggling down next to him and pulling his slumbering body closer. He fell asleep wrapped around Viktor, his lips pressed against the soft skin of Viktor’s neck. 

The next morning, Viktor was the first to skate. And again, his  _ Snow King  _ program solidified him a gold medal…even before the other skaters took the ice. 

It was a close call, but Yurio fell into second and Chris into third. Viktor beamed at Yuuri from atop the podium, a bouquet of flowers held tightly in his hands and a gold medal glittering around his neck. 

And as the cameras buzzed around them, and the live feed was broadcasted around the world, Viktor skated to the edge of the rink, dropped his bouquet, and kissed Yuuri square on the mouth for all the world to see. The snaps of camera shutters and the flashing of the bright camera lights were all around them like gnats on a hot summer day. And though Yuuri’s mind screamed for caution, his heart and his body pushed forward for more. He allowed Viktor’s hands to wind themselves around the back of his head and twine themselves in his hair, felt Viktor’s tongue part his lips. It was the most public declaration of love Yuuri had ever experienced. And he loved every second of being loved by this man. 

“Viktor Nikiforov!” Yakov growled angrily once they were back in Yuuri and Viktor’s shared hotel room and out of sight of the cameras. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Viktor laughed under Yakov’s harsh glare. “What? I was just happy! And I wanted to share that happiness with my future husband!”

Yakov’s face burned a deep, bright red. “You’re being foolish, Vitya! Unendingly foolish! Now all of Russia has seen your little publicity stunt, you think you’re going to be welcomed home with open arms? After your stunt in China, I thought you had  _ learned _ . Do you have any idea how many conversations I had to have in order to get the Russian Skating Federation to turn a blind eye on  _ that  _ little indecency? Do you?”

Viktor rolled his eyes but Yuuri flushed. Had Viktor been in hot water after the Cup of China? After that kiss they had shared on the ice? Yuuri himself hadn’t thought twice about it. But had Viktor?

“It was just a kiss, Yakov,” Viktor said with a playful smile. 

“It wasn’t. It was an act of defiance while your government and the Federation was watching. While your  _ father  _ was watching.” Yakov’s voice was dangerously low and Viktor froze. Beside him, Yuuri did the same. 

“What did you say?” Viktor’s tone was suddenly cold, the temperature of the room having dropped several degrees. 

“You heard me,” Yakov was watching Viktor now with heavily lidded eyes. 

“Why does that matter?” Viktor snapped. “Why does it matter if  _ he’s  _ watching?”

“Because he’s getting out, Vitya. In less than a month. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

The look on Viktor’s face was one Yuuri had never before seen. Horror. Shock. Fear. Revulsion. “Why would I know that, Yakov?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, and it sent shivers down Yuuri’s spine. 

“I thought it was your business to know,” Yakov replied. “I thought you were smarter than to completely distance yourself from him. You’re protecting no one by staying ignorant of what’s happening.”

“I just...want to stay away from him. I want him to stay away from...us.”

“So you purposely do something you know would anger him,” Yakov spat. 

“I didn’t do it to anger him!” Viktor growled, anger flashing on his face. “Not everything I do, not everything I am, is done in defiance of him. As much as he would believe it to be.”

Yuuri’s head was spinning. Viktor’s  _ father.  _ They’d never spoken about his father...nor about any of his family, for that matter. But it seemed like...Viktor had no interest whatsoever in having that discussion. He was almost shaking now where he stood, still dressed in his pristine  _ Snow King _ costume.

“I know that, Viktor. I do. But you can’t expect the rest of the world to understand. The world in which we live is a cruel world. An unkind world. It loves to hate. And when you draw attention to yourself...you stand out as a target. Don’t give the world a reason to hate you, Vitya.”

Viktor looked up at his coach with betrayal in his eyes. “How can you say that to me? How can you ask me to slink into the shadows and not be myself?”

“I’m not asking you to not be yourself! I’m asking you to be yourself but more...quietly. For your own safety, Vitya. For Yuuri’s safety.” 

At Yakov’s words, Viktor straightened, his eyes darkening behind the curtain of his silver hair. “I will not stop being who I am. And I will not allow anything to happen to Yuuri. Don’t ever doubt that, Yakov. I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt him.”

This was a new side to Viktor. One Yuuri had never seen before. He wanted to approach, to gently touch Viktor’s arm, to provide any comfort he could. But a part of him was scared. Scared of the anger flashing behind Viktor’s burning eyes. 

“You’d kill your own father?” Yakov asked. 

Viktor stiffened, watching Yakov with intense eyes. His lips were tight as he assessed his coach in silence, standing firm and unwavering. 

“Vitya?” Yuuri’s voice broke unwillingly through the tension, drawing both sets of eyes to his own. He balked under the weight of those intense stares. Stares that indicated that in the heat of the argument, Yuuri’s presence had been forgotten. “I...I don’t understand…”

Yakov’s mouth nearly fell open in shock. “Viktor...tell me you’ve...tell me you’ve told him. About your father?”

Viktor whirled on Yakov, his body tense and rigid. “What would you have me tell him, Yakov?”

“The truth,” Yakov said firmly. “The truth so he knows what he’s gotten himself into.”

And suddenly, Yuuri was finding it hard to breathe. Viktor had been purposely hiding this part of himself from him, guarding it like a dirty secret, a monster in the closet. “Viktor…” he gasped. “What aren’t you telling me? About your father?”

Viktor’s eyes flashed angrily from Yakov to Yuuri, where they softened. “I just didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily, Yuuri. I promise, I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you…”

“Then what?” Yuuri choked. “Tell me.”

Viktor ran his hands through his hair, raking at his scalp with his fingers and sighing loudly before collapsing onto the bed with a groan. “My father...is in jail...for attempted murder…”

Yuuri felt himself inhale sharply. “Vitya…”

“And I put him there...after he tried to kill me. For being who I am.”

Yuuri sank down next to Viktor as his legs gave out. “Oh my god…”

“I told you, Yuuri...Russia is not like Hasetsu. My father was ashamed of me. Said I had brought shame onto our whole family...and was flaunting it for all the world to see. So, when I was 20, he followed me on my way home from the rink...and he...tried to kill me. He might have succeeded if...if Max hadn’t been there to stop him. Which is why…”

“Why Max is still in your life…” Yuuri answered. It all made some horrible, awful, gruesome sense. 

Yakov approached them, his steps slow and hesitant. Yuuri had never seen his face as soft as it now seemed as he looked down at Viktor. 

“Boris Nikiforov has been in jail for 7 years, serving his time for what he did to his son. But this is  _ Russia _ we’re talking about, Yuuri. And soon, Boris will be released with a slap on the wrist.”

“I have a restraining order against him,” Viktor snarled, but Yakov just shook his head sadly. 

“And how did that work out last time? What potency does a piece of paper have against a man’s rage?”

“He can’t come near us. Not unless he wants to go back to jail!”

“And if he kills you before that? What will that matter to him once he’s killed his only child?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened at Yakov’s words. “You think he will come back to try to...hurt Viktor?”

“When Viktor pulls stunts like he did today...when all the world is watching...he is challenging his father. In Boris’s eyes, he is bringing shame on the Nikiforov family. And doing it in a bold manner. The Russian government will not protect Viktor in this. They’ll side with Boris. He may go back to jail. But chances are, Viktor’s murder would go unsolved. Unpunished. And his father would get away with taking Viktor from his world. From the people who love him.” 

Viktor’s head fell to his chest and Yuuri could see the traces of tears running down his cheeks. “It’s not fair. It’s not right.”

Yakov got to his knees in front of Viktor and put a hand on Viktor’s cheek, raising those ocean blue eyes to meet his own. “No, it isn’t. But Vitya, I’m begging you. Please. Be careful. I’ve never judged you, have I? In all our years together, I’ve never asked you to stop being who you are, have I?”

Viktor shook his head, his eyes swimming with tears. 

“All I ask is that you stay alive. Stay safe. Be smart. If not for yourself, then for the people who love you.” He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Viktor’s cheek. “ _ Ya lyublyu tyebya,  _ Vitya.”

Viktor nodded his head and whispered, “ _ Ya tozhe tyebya lyublyu.” _

As Yakov rose, he put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you. I think you two have a lot to talk about.” He began to move toward the door, pausing only once to look back and sigh. “I’ll expect to see you at the banquet tonight, Vitya. Clean your face and meet us downstairs in an hour, understood? And this time...please behave yourself.” 

When Yakov left, they were left alone to the silence that surrounded them. Tears were still dripping down Viktor’s face, falling down his cheeks and off the tip of his chin. Slowly, hesitantly, Yuuri wove his fingers through Viktor’s and squeezed gently. When Viktor pulled Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed it, Yuuri reached out, slid a hand over Viktor’s cheek and turned that beautiful face to meet his own. 

“Vitya,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I...wanted to protect you,” Viktor choked. “I thought that if I told you, I would scare you away. And it was selfish to hide it from you but...I can’t lose you. I can’t…”

Yuuri’s heart clenched in his chest. “You won’t, Viktor. You never will. I’m yours. Forever. Body and soul.”

Viktor’s eyelashes fluttered as Yuuri made the first move and stole Viktor’s lips in a passionate kiss. As the kiss deepended, Yuuri stuffed down his anxiety to climb on top of Viktor’s lap and grasp either side of Viktor’s tear-streaked face in his hands. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasped, as Yuuri began rutting against Viktor’s hardening cock in a slow, rhythmic motion. 

“I want you, Viktor. I want to prove it. I’m yours.” Yuuri wasn’t sure what had come over him, but it felt  _ good _ . And the low groan of desire that ruminated in Viktor’s chest told him that  _ Viktor _ didn’t mind it either.

Yuuri’s hands moved to caressing Viktor’s back and pulling down on the zipper of his costume, exposing the soft skin underneath. “Get in the shower with me?” Viktor whispered and Yuuri nodded, blushing fiercely.

Yuuri stood and began to slide Viktor’s costume off his shoulders, pressing kisses to his chest and running his hands over Viktor’s hardened nipples. When the costume was completely removed, and Viktor stood bare and trembling before him, Yuuri sighed in contentment. 

“You’re beautiful, Vitya,” he said, voice thick with lust. 

Viktor moved in toward Yuuri then and began peeling off his jacket as well. By the time Viktor’s fingers were tugging down his pants, they were both panting and desperate with desire. They stumbled into the bathroom, lips locked, as Viktor struggled with the shower dials. 

“I’m ready,” Yuuri gasped. “I want you. Completely.”

Viktor smiled against Yuuri’s kiss-bruised lips. “Soon, My Love. I want to be able to take my time with you. Take you apart slowly.”

As they fell under the water and allowed the warm droplets to cascade over their naked bodies, they were consumed by one another, pressed close together with lips locked and hands exploring each other. In that moment, with Viktor’s pressing him up against the wall of the shower, Yuuri forgot everything. He forgot Boris Nikiforov and the threat of the Skating Federation of Russia. He forgot about Max and he forgot about the banquet. He forgot about his inexperience and his anxiety. He knew only Viktor and the pleasure of being Viktor’s alone. 

As the water pelted his back and his hair, Yuuri broke away from Viktor’s lips to kiss his sharp jawline, and down his neck, before sucking marks over his muscular chest. He began working his way down, taking his time to suck on Viktor’s nipples, and enjoying the rasping, breathless sounds that came from Viktor’s open mouth. 

By the time Yuuri was kneeling between Viktor’s legs, with his cock in hand, Viktor was moaning and writhing in anticipation, purring out Yuuri’s name between each desperate and chaotic breath. 

When Yuuri took Viktor’s member in his mouth, Viktor cried out, whimpering softly as his fingers buried themselves in the thick darkness of Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri took his time, savoring the taste that was entirely Viktor’s, while sliding his tongue over Viktor’s leaking slit and fucking his own mouth with vigor. 

“Ahhh...Yuuri…” Viktor’s grip in his hair was so tight, it almost hurt. But Yuuri relished that feeling. Viktor’s desperation as he crashed toward the brink. “I’m going to...Yuuri, I’m going to come.”

Yuuri didn’t pull away as Viktor spilled in his mouth. He swallowed it greedily, hungry for that which was entirely Viktor’s, even licking Viktor’s overly sensitive tip when it was all over. 

“That was amazing,” Viktor hummed as Yuuri stood to press another kiss to his neck. “Let me...take care of you, Yuuri.”

Viktor was taking Yuuri’s hard cock in his hand, beginning to pump steadily. Yuuri buried his face in the crook of Viktor’s neck, biting down and procuring a hiss of pleasured pain from Viktor’s lips. 

The warm water rushing over them provided ample lubrication as Viktor’s hand slid back and forth over him, toying with his tip and rebounding back over his entire member. Viktor’s lips found Yuuri’s ear and began nipping and sucking at the lobe, sending Yuuri spiraling into pure euphoria. “Oh my god, Viktor,” he moaned.

“Come for me, My Yuuri,” Viktor whispered huskily. “ I want to feel you come.”

He spilled not long after that, eyelashes fluttering heavily against Viktor’s neck. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Viktor said gently, kissing his lips and embracing him under the shower. “You’re so good for me.”

The banquet that night was pleasant enough, but even after their intimate moment, Yuuri could see the tension in Viktor’s posture, the worry in his eyes. He wasn’t his usual exuberant self, and the smile he wore on his face was like a mask of protection: fake, plastic, forced. 

He clung to Yuuri, as if for protection, his fingers twined within Yuuri’s at all times. 

Yuuri caught Yakov and Max both watching Viktor, as if concerned about his mental state. Though neither of them approached, he saw them exchange glances and speak in close-range whispers when out of earshot of everyone else. 

So this was real. And Boris Nikiforov was a threat. Yuuri couldn’t be held in the dark without a light. Though Viktor thought he was protecting him, he was actually blinding him. And Yuuri would be no use to Viktor, unable to protect him, if he was blind. 

That night, after the banquet had ended and Viktor had fallen fast asleep in bed, Yuuri hesitantly grabbed Viktor’s phone and flipped through the contacts. 

Landing on “Max Volkov,” he sent a single message and waited for the response. 

_ Max, it’s Yuuri. Can we talk? _

Three dots blinked on the screen and, almost immediately after they disappeared, Max’s reply came in. 

_ Room 215. Come on up.  _

Yuuri’s heart was pounding as he slipped from the bed and kissed Viktor’s cheek. When Viktor didn’t stir, Yuuri grabbed the room key and stepped out the door with his heart in his throat. He wasn’t sure why...but his actions, his curiosity, felt like betrayal to Viktor. 

_ No.  _ He had to force it down. He was doing this  _ for  _ Viktor. To protect him. 

At Max’s door, Yuuri breathed out heavily and raised a fist to knock. When the door opened, Max’s smiling face greeted him with shimmering green eyes and cheeks flushed with drink. His dark hair was down around his shoulders instead of tied up in its usual fashion and in this light, he looked devastatingly handsome. 

“Yuuri...come on in, my friend.” Max stood back to allow Yuuri to step inside the room, a mirror image of the one he was sharing with Viktor. 

“What’s up?” Max asked when they had settled inside. 

Yuuri sighed. “Viktor’s father…”

Max nodded. “So he told you…”

“He didn’t want to. If Yakov hadn’t said something, I’m not sure if he ever would have...we've never talked about his family. Or his childhood...or...anything…” Why was he opening up to Max like this? Why was he spewing the internal turmoil and messiness to this man he didn’t even trust? 

“There’s something you need to understand about Viktor, Yuuri…” Max approached, putting both arms on either of Yuuri’s shoulders and looking him square in the face. “His past...is riddled with despair. It’s all so...fucked. And that mask of happiness and joy he always wears...is just that. A  _ mask _ . He’s been hiding behind that mask his whole life, afraid of letting people see the ugliness underneath. And it  _ is  _ ugly underneath, Yuuri. It’s a scary place.”

“I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid of Viktor.”

Max sighed, pulling away and assessing Yuuri with cold green eyes. “Oh, Yuuri...you really should be…”

“What...why? What’s so horrible? He said his father tried to kill him and that  _ you _ ...saved his life. Tell me the truth. What happened between you two?”

Max sighed heavily, smirking as he looked at Yuuri. “Oh Yuuri. Little Yuuri. Viktor is what might be called an ‘affection-whore.’ He’s always looking for it, always desperate to find that love that his daddy never gave him. In whatever form it might come in. Sex, worship. Adoration. But once he’s had his fill, Viktor will pull away. He’ll move on. That’s how he’s always been. He begs and he begs and he begs for it. And then once he’s had what he wants, he’s done. It’s like a game to him. Love is like a game to him.

“That’s how it was with us. I fell in love with Viktor the first time I saw him skate. And I think that Viktor loved that. Loved being  _ loved.  _ But when I really fell, really wanted to give him everything, to go deep and fully commit, he pulled away. Because that’s what Viktor does. He wants to be loved...but on his terms.Viktor broke my heart, Yuuri. Shattered it to pieces. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Yuuri staggered back slightly, watching tears form in Max’s large green eyes. 

In frustration, Max brought his sleeve to his eyes and harshly wiped the wet away. “Fuck...I didn’t want to go there again.”

“I’m sorry…” Yuuri stuttered. “I...I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. Because that’s not the way Viktor tells the story.”

Yuuri stood immobile, unsure of how to proceed. “Max, please. Tell me about Viktor’s father. I have to know. What did he do to him?”

Max stiffened, his face set in a grimace of pain. “Well it all starts with Viktor’s mother, doesn’t it? Natanya. Viktor was her pride and joy. She was the one who got him involved in skating. She was the one who reached out to Yakov to coach him. And even though Boris thought skating was a sissy sport, Natanya persisted. And when Viktor was nine, Natanya got herself killed in a freak car accident. And Boris almost stopped Viktor from skating.

“But Viktor was stubborn. And he kept sneaking out and skating with Yakov in secret. And Yakov loved that stubborn little kid, so he didn’t mention coaching fees. And he didn’t charge a dime.  But when Boris found out, he beat the living shit out of Viktor. So, Yakov decided to take Viktor off his hands. He sued the state for custody and eventually won when Boris was ruled an unfit parent. But that wasn’t good enough for Boris Nikiforov, was it? No. Because Viktor was still out there, smutting up the family name, skating like a fairy princess and bringing shame on his father. 

“Viktor’s never been quiet about his sexuality. And when Viktor was about 17, Boris reached back out. He told Viktor that he was sorry, that he wanted a relationship with him. That he would accept him for who he was. And don’t you know...Viktor, the ‘affection whore’ he is, was suckered right into that trap. If Yakov hadn’t dropped him off and waited for him outside, Viktor might not have escaped with only a split lip and a black eye. So that’s when they took out a restraining order. No more contact for Boris. Until Boris decided a piece of paper wasn’t enough to keep him from his son. 

“It was right after our break-up and I’m not proud of it, but I followed Viktor that day. I followed him home from the rink because I was desperate and I was missing him and I just wanted to see him. And it’s fucking good I did...because that particular day, Boris Nikiforov snuck up on his son and almost clubbed him to death with a metal bat. Viktor almost died that day. And I fucking saved his life. I beat Boris back, I disarmed him and I overpowered him to assist in his arrest. I testified against him in court. But you know what, Yuuri? None of that is good enough. None of what I did is good enough. Because now Viktor’s attention is focused on  _ you _ .”

Yuuri could barely breathe. So that was it. The story. The horrors and ugliness of Viktor’s past. But not from Viktor’s own mouth. 

“And now he’s getting out,” Max said coldly. “In a month, Boris Nikiforov will be getting out of jail for good behavior.”

“You think he’ll come for Viktor?” Yuuri’s voice trembled. 

“I know he will. Because Boris Nikiforov is not one to stop what he’s started. He doesn’t care about going back to jail. He cares about his pride and his honor. And he’d rather be a man in jail than a man with a faggot son.”

Yuuri’s heart clenched at that word, that terrible, derogatory, disgusting word.  

Why had Viktor kept this all from him? Was he really so oblivious to Max’s feelings? Or did he just not care? Who was Viktor really? Was he the loving, compassionate, caring man that Yuuri thought he knew? Or was it all an act? A response to the worship Yuuri so obviously felt for him? 

Was Max right about Viktor? Was there something Max was seeing that Yuuri had yet to see? He felt sick to his stomach as all these thoughts swarmed in his head like hornets buzzing in their hive. Dangerous. Deadly. 

“Yuuri…” Max said with a saddened look in his large green eyes. “Just...be careful. Don’t let yourself be blindsided. Don’t let yourself get hurt.”

As Yuuri walked back to his hotel room, he was filled with quiet and looming sense of dread. Upon sliding the key into the door and turning the handle, he was shocked to see Viktor sitting up in bed, staring at the screen of his phone.  _ Shit.  _

Those beautiful ocean-blue eyes looked up at him in shock and betrayal as he re-entered the room. “Yuuri?” he asked, holding his phone outstretched. The opened text conversation with Max was glowing at Yuuri across the dimly lit room.

_ Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.  _ Yuuri cursed himself. He’d forgotten to erase those texts. And now he’d been caught. 

“Viktor, I can explain,” he said approaching hesitantly but Viktor pulled away. 

“What did you and Max talk about?” Viktor’s words were cold, his face set in stone and completely unreadable. 

“Nothing...we...I…”

“You’re lying. Why are you lying to me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri stiffened. “Viktor…”

“No. Tell me.” Viktor’s brow was furrowed and his face was serious...so serious. After everything that had happened, everything that had been revealed in the last 24 hours, Yuuri understood that seriousness. 

Fine. He would be honest. Mostly. “We talked about your father.”

Viktor stiffened. “Why?”

“You haven’t been honest with me. You haven’t told me everything. And I need to know, Viktor. I need to know so I can protect you.”

“Protect yourself, you mean,” Viktor snapped and Yuuri fell back. 

“Viktor, you know that’s not true.”

“Why, then? Why not come to me?” Viktor was hurt, so obviously hurt. It was etched all over his face, a heavy layer of pain and betrayal. 

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. He’d done it for a number of reasons...reasons that all seemed totally justifiable at the time. But now, standing here in front of Viktor, Yuuri realized the graveness of his mistake. He had gone behind Viktor’s back, betrayed his trust. 

“I...I didn’t want to put it on you. I didn’t want to make you relive all of it.”

“What did he tell you, then?” Viktor’s eyes were hooded and dark, barely visible behind the veil of his thick silver hair. 

“Everything,” Yuuri’s voice caught in his throat. “Your mother...how your father tried to stop you from skating. About the restraining order...and how he tried to kill you.”

“And...what now, Yuuri? Now that you think you know everything?” 

“What do you mean, Vitya?” Yuuri’s heart was pounding.

“Where do we go from here?” 

“Nothing has changed, Viktor. Not for me. I don’t care about your past. And I’m not afraid of your father. I’m yours. Forever.” He held up his hand so his gold ring glinted in the dim light. 

Viktor let out a breath when he saw the ring. As if it hadn’t been there the whole time. 

“Why would you assume anything different?” Yuuri asked gently.

“Because it’s always been... _ different  _ with everyone else.”

“I’m not everyone else.”

Viktor reached out to him, then, arms outstretched. “Come here.”

Yuuri did as he was told, meeting those wide open arms and pressing himself up against the warmth of Viktor’s naked chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I should have gone to you. I should have gone to you first.”

“I should have told you,” Viktor kissed Yuuri’s neck, lips brushing against his jawline and up his cheek. “I’m sorry too. I’ll never keep anything from you again. I promise.”

Those words were enough to make Yuuri’s heart leap for joy. He pushed everything else aside. All Max’s words, all his own fears. 

“You still want to marry me?” Viktor asked, his blue eyes soft and imploring.

“More than anything,” Yuuri replied.

“You know,” Viktor whispered, “you’ve already won a gold medal. We could go tomorrow...go anywhere, I don’t care where... and get married.”

Yuuri chuckled and cocked a sly eyebrow. “I want to win Worlds first.”

Viktor’s smile lit his face. “Just try it, Katsuki.” His voice was playful, and the smile on his face made Yuuri feel like his Viktor was back. Like maybe they might be able to get through this entire mess unscathed after all. 

Yuuri moved in to whisper delicately in Viktor’s ear. “You’re so beautiful on the ice, Vitya. Too bad I’m going to beat you when we compete against each other.”

Viktor laughed and, with his arms twined around Yuuri’s waist, threw him to his back on the bed before climbing on top of him. “I can’t wait to see you try.”

His mouth was harsh and desperate on Yuuri’s, full of force and sensuality. His tongue dove in between Yuuri’s lips as he ground down against Yuuri’s hardening cock. “I want you, Yuuri. I want you in every way there is.”

“Fuck me,” Yuuri gasped. “I want it. I’m ready.”

Viktor paused at his words, pulling back to allow his eyes to meet Yuuri’s own. “You’re sure?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes. I’m positive. I want to feel you…” he couldn’t believe he was going to say it, “...inside of me.”

Viktor’s cheeks lit up bright red...and it was so deliciously beautiful to see him that way. Speechless and nervous and filled with potent and overwhelming desire. The tables had turned, and Yuuri was determined to soak up every second. “Oh god, Yuuri...I...I want that too. So much.”

“I want it now,” Yuuri forced his hips up so his cock met Viktor’s through the soft fabric of his sweatpants. “ _ Now _ , Viktor.”

“Oh god. Yes.” Viktor seemed to tremble at Yuuri’s words, as his mouth again crashed down over Yuuri’s, enveloping his lips in desperation. His fingers were nimbly dancing over the zipper of Yuuri’s blue jacket, pulling it off down and sliding it off his shoulders to reveal his black T-shirt underneath. 

“Sit up for me,” Viktor breathed the words huskily into Yuuri’s panting mouth and as soon as Yuuri complied, his shirt was pulled over his head and Viktor’s hands were scaling his chest. More kisses spilled all over his lips, his neck and his chest, and Yuuri breathed out a sigh of desire to feel the skin of Viktor’s body against his own. 

Yuuri wanted so badly to tell Viktor that he loved him and to hear Viktor say those same words in return. But he was afraid. What if it startled Viktor and ruined the moment? What if Viktor wasn’t able to say it back? He couldn’t risk it. Not when his body was on fire with desire. Not when he was so badly craving Viktor’s touch. 

Viktor’s hands were scaling down his body now, slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants and guiding his hips up as the sweatpants came down. Yuuri was now fully naked and totally exposed. And completely aroused. 

“You’re so beautiful, My Yuuri. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Clearly you’ve never looked in a mirror,” Yuuri shot and Viktor snorted, shaking his head.

“So  _ cheesy _ , My Yuuri. You're adorable.”

They were kissing again, though Yuuri was feeling irritated at the later of fabric still between them. He could feel Viktor’s arousal pressing into him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel what it felt like...to have it  _ inside  _ him. To have Viktor inside him.

Even though his heart fluttered in his chest and his stomach was flipping in anticipation, Yuuri was determined and ready. 

“Viktor, your pants…” Yuuri whispered, slipping his fingers inside the waistband of Viktor’s sweats and toying with the soft skin just beneath. Viktor gasped before nodding.

“Yea...ok...give me one second here…”

He lifted himself off Yuuri, his full arousal all the more prominent as he stood and began stepping out of his sweats. Naked Viktor was glorious, as glorious if not more, than the day he had arrived in Hasetsu. But this time, his cock was viciously hard, standing straight and erect. All for Yuuri. He paused to allow Yuuri to really drink in the sight of him, before bending and digging in his open suitcase. After a few moments, he retrieved a bottle of what Yuuri knew was lube, as well as a condom. Moving back to Yuuri, Viktor smiled slyly and shrugged.

“Wishful thinking, I guess.”

“Well, it paid off,” Yuuri whispered, pulling Viktor back down for another breathless kiss.

He wasn’t sure how this next part was going to go. Damn his inexperience. At 24, he should have already gone through all this awkward scrambling and insecurity. Instead, here he was...in bed with his idol, the  _ living legend Viktor Nikiforov.  _ And he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

“Are you sure, Yuuri? We have all the time in the world…”

“No!” Yuuri’s voice came out in a desperate choke. He steadied himself before continuing. “No. I want this. I want  _ you _ .”

Viktor’s smile was bright and beautiful, and it set Yuuri’s wildly beating heart at ease. “Ok. Then we’ll take our time, yea? Go nice and slow. And make sure you enjoy every moment.”

Viktor’s kiss was reverent and worshipping. Passionate. Deep. Yuuri surrendered himself to Viktor’s lips. To his roaming touch. To the pleasure he knew would come at Viktor’s hand.

“I trust you.”

Viktor sat up and unscrewed the bottle of lube, dripping an ample amount onto his finger so it was completely coated. He slowly and gently brought that finger to Yuuri’s opening, procuring a gasp from Yuuri’s lips.

“Is this ok?” he asked and Yuuri nodded. 

“Yes. Please.”

Viktor’s finger circled his opening several times before finally pressing inside all the way. Yuuri’s breath caught heavily in his throat at the sensation. Strange. Not quite pain. But pleasurable. Definitely pleasurable.

“Stop me if anything doesn’t feel good. Or if anything hurts. Ok?” Viktor’s voice was heady and filled with lust but still restrained. Careful. Diligent. Devoted. “I don’t want you to feel any pain at all.”

Yuuri pressed down on Viktor’s finger, pushing it as deep as it would go, relishing the way it curled and moved inside him. “More,” he whimpered and Viktor obliged, pulling out to add another finger and scissoring then back and forth. 

Yuuri groaned at the feel of himself loosening, stretching, relaxing around Viktor’s fingers. “Kiss me,” he moaned and Viktor happily obliged, leaning down to take Yuuri’s lips, while still working him open. 

“I’m ready,” Yuuri squirmed against Viktor’s fingers, his voice a thick rasp as it emanated from his throat.

Viktor shook his head. “Not yet, My Yuuri.” 

Yuuri moaned loudly as yet another finger was added, widening him further. It was a passionate, uninhibited noise that burbled from his chest without his consent and he flushed, embarrassed at his own lack of decorum.

“I love it when you’re loud for me, Yuuri. I want to hear you. If it feels good, let me hear you.” Viktor’s lips were at his ear, seductive and tantalizing, his words making Yuuri’s cock ache where it rested, rock solid, against his abdomen. 

Viktor worked him open for what seemed like hours, and the excruciating pleasure of having those thin, nimble fingers inside him was like torturous splendor to Yuuri. He’d never felt anything like this before. Bliss and agony. Pure and naked desperation. Want. Need. Hunger. 

“I think you’re ready, My Yuuri. Do you want to try?” Viktor whispered and Yuuri whimpered in response.

“Yes, Vitya. Please.”

Viktor reached over to the bedside table, to retrieve the condom he had left there, tearing it open and sliding it over the forth of his shaft. Then, slowly he lined himself up in between Yuuri’s legs, pressing the tip of his cock to Yuuri’s hole. Yuuri felt breathless and nervous and hot and needy all at the same time. 

“I’m going to take it slow. Stop me if it hurts, ok?”

Yuuri nodded, but it was a lie. Nothing could stop what would come next. Yuuri willed it to happen, craved it like oxygen, like the eventual rest after a hard day of skating. But nothing could have prepared him for the complete and total bliss of being consumed by Viktor, of feeling Viktor’s length fill him completely.

As Viktor eased inside, Yuuri felt slight pain at first, then something far greater than he had ever before experienced. It was like completion, like connection. He threw his head back and thrust his hands out to grasp at the blankets beneath them. 

“Is this ok?” Viktor asked, a look of concern on his face but Yuuri just nodded.

“Please, Vitya. More. I need to feel you.”

As Viktor’s hips began to move, Yuuri began to spin. This was everything. This moment with Viktor, this complete and total consumption. There would be no going back. Ever again. And Yuuri was blissfully happy, his body on fire with agonized pleasure.

He reached out and grasped at Viktor’s ass, digging his fingers into each of his firm cheeks and helping to speed up Viktor’s desperate pumping.

“Oh god, Yuuri. I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that,” Viktor moaned and Yuuri smirked. 

“We really have to work on your stamina, coach,” he purred into Viktor’s ear, lighting Viktor’s face bright red. 

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor whined as Yuuri tightened his grip on his ass. “You’re so  _ mean  _ to me.”

Yuuri leaned up to take Viktor’s lips in his own. “Never,” he whispered as he allowed himself to fall back, to gaze into Viktor’s huge lust-blown eyes. He was close, Yuuri could see, so he brought his hand up to his own cock, and began pumping himself in time with Viktor’s chaotic movements. 

Only moments later, they were both gasping, teetering on the precipice, about to jump off.

“I’m going to come, Yuuri,” Viktor groaned.

“Me too,” Yuuri choked out breathlessly. 

And like a beautiful, perfect, ridiculous dream, they came together, their mouths wide open and panting as sweat and semen soaked the sheets. 

As Viktor collapsed beside him, Yuuri sighed in contentment. This was everything. Everything he had ever dreamed of and wished for. With Viktor beside him, he could take on the world. Because nothing else mattered like Viktor did.

“Vitya,” he whispered, turning to face the most beautiful man in the world. “I…” He almost said it, almost said the words, but chose instead to reign them back. “Thank you. For being patient with me. For making sure I was ready.”

Viktor pulled him close, wrapping him up in those long, thin arms. “Of course, My Yuuri. I don’t take this lightly. Everything you’ve given to me. You’re my world Yuuri.”

They fell asleep, enveloped in each other’s arms, blissfully scorning every negative thing that had attempted to test them apart. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now we know a little more about Viktor's past...according to me haha
> 
> And they totally did it! yay!
> 
> Hope this extra long, extra smutty chapter did it for you and you're itching to know more because Chapters 5 and 6 are finished and getting revised! 
> 
> Woo hoo! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I've been loving your comments and feedback!   
> Much love!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! Chapter update! 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who is following this angsty joy-ride! I'm so enjoying writing it! So I'm glad to know someone else is enjoying reading it!
> 
> Chapter 6 and 7 are finished! We're trucking!
> 
> Starting this chapter, shit's going down. Hope you enjoy!

It was pure bliss being known by Viktor. Being in love with Viktor. Yuuri felt he was walking on air, euphorically happy. Like nothing could bring him back down. Not Max. Not the looming threat of Boris Nikiforov. Not the negativity of the Russian media nor the Russian Skating Federation. Because between himself and Viktor, there were no more secrets. They were open and honest. Vulnerable, exposed, laid bare with one another. And it was the best feeling in the world. 

The way Viktor looked at him, with serene eyes and a small, quiet smile, made Yuuri feel at peace in a way he never had before. It was a dream. 

A dream from which they were both about to be forcefully awakened. 

When they arrived home in St. Petersburg, they were greeted by camera crews and flashing lights outside Viktor’s apartment building. Reporters were swarming like mosquitos, clamoring for answers without tact or decorum. 

“Viktor, have you heard from the Russian Skating Federation regarding your standing with the organization?”

“Are you concerned at all that your behavior might jeopardize your ability to compete in the World Championships?”

“Do you consider your actions a part of the homosexual agenda?”

Viktor rolled his eyes and pushed past the reporters, pulling Yuuri along with him. Once inside the lobby, however, they stopped in their tracks to see several police officers speaking with the apartment manager, their heads bowed and their pens scratching against the notepads in their hands. 

When they saw Viktor, their eyes narrowed. The taller policeman barked out his name. “Viktor Nikiforov?”

“Yes?” Viktor’s voice was hesitant and his eyes shone with confusion and concern. But his fingers never pulled from Yuuri’s grasp. “How can I help you?”

They began speaking in fast, heavily accented Russian, and though Yuuri did his best to understand, he could barely make out a word. But he knew from Viktor’s expression that something had happened. His grip tightened on Yuuri’s hand. 

Viktor asked a question with fear in his eyes and the officers nodded, turning and indicating for Yuuri and Viktor to follow them towards the elevator.

“Viktor, what’s going on?” Yuuri whispered in English, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Someone has vandalized the apartment. They want to escort us upstairs to inspect the interior. Make sure we’re safe.”

Yuuri could barely breathe. He didn't know what to say. As the elevator climbed the floors to the top, Yuuri attempted to read Viktor’s expression. But it was blank. Unreadable. Vacant. 

The first thing they saw when they stepped off the elevator were two words written on door to Viktor’s apartment in bright, blood-red paint. 

_ Pedik  _

_ Blyad  _

The words were huge, and sloppily written, overtaking the door frame. Viktor’s hand finally fell from Yuuri’s as he looked upon the mess, the paint that had been splattered on the walls, on the carpet. 

Who had done this? Yuuri felt sick. 

Viktor opened the door for the two officers to step inside. While Yuuri and Viktor waited in the hall, the officers raised their guns and moved through the apartment to ensure nothing was out of place, that nothing had been stolen, that no one was lying in wait to attack. And when they cleared the apartment, they again began to speak with Viktor in Russian. 

Dammit, Yuuri wished he could understand what they were saying. The expression on Viktor’s face was stone cold, giving nothing. But still, Yuuri would not leave his side. 

When the officers finally left, Viktor shut the door behind them, his hand freezing on the door knob. 

“Viktor?” Yuuri approached hesitantly, his arm outstretched to Viktor. “What did they say? Do they know who did this? Are we in danger?”

Viktor shook his head, avoiding Yuuri’s eyes. “This is my fault. I brought this on us with my own stupidity. My own rash actions.”

“Viktor, tell me what they were saying,” Yuuri demanded firmly. “Viktor, look at me.”

“They don’t know who did it. But they don’t think we’re in any imminent danger,” Viktor said, his eyes welling with tears as he finally turned to look at Yuuri. “Still...I’m so ashamed you had to come home to that.”

“Don’t, Viktor,” Yuuri moved to Viktor and slipped his arms around the taller man’s waist. “Don’t do that to yourself. I came home to  _ you _ .” He attempted to kiss Viktor, to break him out of his head, but Viktor was unmoved. 

Over the next several hours, Viktor was distant, reserved, aloof. Even after they had picked up Makkachin from the boarding facility, Viktor was a fraction of his normal self, standoffish and detached.

By the time they went to bed that night, they had barely spoken to each other. And they hadn’t been physical with one another since the night before in the hotel room in Vienna. As Yuuri snuggled under the covers, he wriggled close to Viktor and laid his head on Viktor’s bare chest, desperate for some touch, some comfort and reassurance.

Viktor carded a hand through Yuuri’s thick black hair and kissed the top of his head once before rolling over and turning his back to Yuuri. 

“Good night, Yuuri,” he whispered and turned off the light at his bedside, enveloping them both in darkness. 

The following days passed like a race in which Yuuri was competing but in which he was sorely outmatched. He couldn’t keep up with Viktor, was always several paces behind. During practice, Viktor was indifferent and apathetic, giving mediocre performances and passive feedback.  

“Viktor, what the hell?” Max snapped from the sidelines. Yakov, too, looked furious at the lackluster performance. 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor breathed out, seemingly out of breath. “I’m just...not feeling it today.”

“Well that’s not going to cut it at Four Continents, Viktor!” Max snarled. “You want to lose to lesser men?”

Yuuri bristled and Yurio growled from his place on the ice. “Fuck you, Volkov!”

“If I lose, it won’t be to lesser men,” Viktor said resignedly, stepping off the ice. “I’m done for today.”

Max blocked his way, putting his body directly in Viktor’s path. “Like  _ hell  _ you are. Get back on the ice, Nikiforov, before I land you on your ass.”

A chill passed over them all as Viktor studied Max with cold, apathetic eyes. “Do you think you can?” he whispered. 

“You know I can,” Max said, his voice dripping with venom and his body hulking over Viktor’s, even with Viktor in his skates. 

“That’s enough,” Yakov snarled, stepping in between the two men. “Volkov, let him go. If he wants to skate that shit and be done with it, he’ll have no one to blame but himself when he doesn’t make the podium.”

“Step aside, Max,” Viktor said lowly but Max’s face showed pure defiance and anger. He made no move to stand down or let Viktor pass, his arms crossing over his broad chest. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri said, reaching out to comfort his fiance, but Viktor pulled away abruptly, and pushed past Max to head back to the locker rooms, leaving them all behind. 

“What the hell was that?” Yurio spat as he skated up to the edge of the rink. Yuuri didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t know what to say. He struggled to defend the man who had shrunk him off so easily and without hesitation. 

“We didn’t have the...kindest homecoming…” he finally said. 

Yakov’s eyes narrowed. “He told me about the vandalism.”

“Vandalism?” Max asked, and Yakov nodded solemnly.

“Profanity and derogatory remarks. And after his stunt at Europeans, the Federation is not happy.”

Max’s thick, dark eyebrows raised. “Not happy?”

“They’re considering barring him from skating at Worlds.”

“What?” Max growled. “That’s a fucking joke!” 

“It’s not,” Yakov said sternly. “It’s not a joke. If Viktor wants to skate at Worlds, he has to take Four Continents seriously. These performances have to be the best two performances of his life. With no funny business and no publicity stunts.”

_ If Viktor wants to skate at worlds... _ Yuuri hadn’t even thought about that possibility...that Viktor might not get the Russian Skating Federation’s endorsement. That he might not be able to skate. 

“Viktor has to skate!” the words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, drawing the eyes of all the men around him. He straightened and forced his face to set in a show of solidarity. “Viktor will get that endorsement. He just needs...some time. And encouragement.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Oh…? And are you going to be the one to offer that encouragement, Little Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that Viktor skates at Worlds.”

The next few days tried Yuuri’s patience, showing him a new side of Viktor. A Viktor who was cold and stoic and emotionless. Distant. Apathetic. A Viktor Yuuri didn’t know. 

In the mornings, Yuuri would wake before Viktor and force him out of bed with a kiss and a slap on the ass. He would get started on breakfast as Viktor showered, and have a full meal prepared by the time Viktor emerged. He would pack Viktor’s practice bag for him and encourage him during his skating sessions. 

And when Viktor’s energy seemed to flag, Yuuri would skate out onto the ice and press a kiss to his lips, before skating his program beside him. He did this as many times as needed, without hesitation and without complaint. Because he knew that in similar circumstances, Viktor would do the same for him. 

He wouldn’t give up on Viktor. They would get through whatever obstacles came their way. Because that’s what you did when you loved someone. And Yuuri loved Viktor with all his heart. 

But two days before they were to depart for Four Continents, a letter arrived at Viktor’s apartment. As Viktor’s hands fumbled over the envelope that was addressed entirely in Russian, Yuuri could see the shaking of his fingers, the hitching of his breath. And as his sea-blue eyes scanned the letter’s contents, his handsome face paled. 

He immediately set the letter down on the kitchen table before removing his phone from his pocket. Before Yuuri could ask any questions, Viktor was leaving the room and shutting himself in the bathroom, locking the door behind him. As Yuuri pressed his ear to the door, he could faintly hear Viktor speaking in Russian to someone on the other end of the phone. His tone was clipped and emotionless. But serious. Fearful. 

What was in that letter? Yuuri’s heart was pounding as he drew nearer to where Viktor had hastily abandoned it on the table. In a moment of weakness, he snapped a picture, breathed in deeply and sent it to Yurio with the following text:

_ Yuri, can you tell me what this says? And don’t say anything to Viktor.  _

A few minutes later, a call came into Yuuri’s phone. Yurio’s voice was obviously rattled on the other end. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ Katsudon?”

“What did it say, Yurio?”

“Nothing good” Yurio snapped. “Do you know who sent it?”

“I have no idea. What did it say?”

Silence on the other end. Yurio was clearly thinking, contemplating. Finally, after a brief silent moment, Yurio sighed heavily and said, “ _ I’ll be watching. I’ll be waiting. I’ll see you in a few weeks time. And you’ll pay for what you did to this family, you fucking faggot whore.” _

Yuuri’s heart clenched hard in his chest. “What?”

“That’s what the letter says.”

“Oh my god…” Yuuri’s head was spinning. “Yuri, it’s from Viktor’s father. It has to be.”

“His father?” Yurio’s voice was surprisingly quiet. Almost concerned. “He’s never talked about his father.”

“No…” Yuuri whispered. “Viktor might be in danger, Yuri.”

“Does Yakov know?” Yurio asked. 

“I’m not sure. Viktor is on the phone with someone right now. Speaking in Russian. I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

“You need to call Yakov,” Yurio snapped. “He’ll know what to do.”

“Yea,” Yuuri said. “Yea. Thanks, Yuri. And please...don’t tell Viktor that I showed you the letter. Ok?”

“Yea, yea,” Yurio grumbled. A moment of silence passed, and then, “Stay safe, Katsudon,” before Yurio hung up. 

Yuuri wasn’t sure how to proceed. Should he reach out to Yakov? Or wait until Viktor emerged? He knew he should honor Viktor’s wishes, respect his right to his own privacy. But the contents of that letter...the dangerous, venomous words in that letter... _ Was  _ Viktor in danger? It was an obvious threat from a violent criminal who had attempted to murder Viktor once before. Could Yuuri’s inaction doom the man he loved? 

Yuuri raked his brain, puzzling and pacing until his mind and his legs were sore. 

After what seemed like hours, Viktor emerged from the bathroom with bloodshot eyes and trembling limbs. He attempted a smile when he saw Yuuri, but Yuuri could see that smile falter. 

“Viktor...what happened?” Yuuri asked, attempting to steady himself. 

When Viktor didn’t immediately reply, Yuuri moved closer. “Please tell me.”

“It’s nothing, Yuuri,” Viktor said, looking down at the letter on the table. “Nothing we need to concern ourselves with.”

“Who did you call?” Yuuri pushed. 

Viktor shrugged. “No one...I…”

“That’s not true, Viktor. You said you wouldn’t lie to me. You said you wouldn’t keep secrets from me. So tell me. Who did you call?”

The truth of Yuuri’s words seemed to hit Viktor like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened, filling with tears as he put a hand to his forehead, sighing deeply. “I called Max.”

Yuuri froze. Max. Not Yakov.  _ Max _ . “Why?”

“I just...did. I don’t know, Yuuri.”

“Why not Yakov? Whatever is in that letter, it obviously scared you. I can see it in your eyes.”

Viktor shook his head. “There’s nothing in the letter, Yuuri. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Really? Are you telling me the truth?” Yuuri pushed. 

Viktor hardened, pulling his spine straight. “Yuuri, stop this. Stop. It’s fine, ok? Can’t you just  trust me?”

Yuuri blanched under the weight of Viktor’s imploring stare. “Of course I trust you, Viktor.”

“Then trust me,” Viktor said firmly. “Please. I need you to trust me.”

Yuuri wanted so badly to break, to beg Viktor to see reason, to be honest and lay everything bare as they had done that night in Vienna. He wanted Viktor to call Yakov, to seek his coach’s counsel instead of relying on Maxim Volkov, the man who was so obviously still in love with him. He wanted Viktor to admit he was scared...so that Yuuri wouldn’t feel so alone in his own fear. He wanted to beg Viktor to tell him what he was feeling and what he was thinking. 

But instead, he just nodded. “Ok, Viktor. Ok. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Though Viktor nodded his thanks, he still pulled away when Yuuri sought his arms. He still withdrew when Yuuri drew near. And during the next two days, Yuuri noticed Viktor seeking out Max, whispering to him in Russian, holding heated conversations in the shadows of the ice rink and in the locker room. Something was up. 

Several times, during the night, Viktor’s phone would ring to reveal the name “Max” shining on the screen.  Viktor would always leave the room before answering. 

His phone would ding throughout the day and Viktor would never miss a reply. Though Yuuri never heard their conversations, nor did he ever read their texts, he began to feel uneasy. This was more than Viktor seeking solace in the man who had saved his life. It had always been something more to Max. 

So instead of throwing himself into Viktor, Yuuri threw himself into his skating. 

When the time came for the competitors to depart for Four Continents, Yuuri was ready. Ready to get his Viktor back, ready to compete at his side in Moscow. Perhaps if Viktor saw Yuuri skate from his heart, saw him skate a program meant only as a declaration of love, he would awaken from the curse that had been cast over him. Perhaps he would realize then that Yuuri would do anything to protect what they had. 

On the plane ride to Msocow, Yuuri held Viktor’s hand in his own. The flight was only about an hour and a half and Viktor spent the majority of that time in silent contemplation. Yuuri did his best to stay close to him, to provide support and encouragement, to press chaste kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Slowly, he began to warm that icy exterior, began to see small smiles from Viktor’s lips. 

He would get his Viktor back. He  _ would _ . He wouldn’t lose him to Max. Or to Boris Nikiforov. Or to anyone. Viktor was worth the struggle and the pain. Viktor was worth every bit of it.

 

* * *

 

The first day of competition had Yuuri feeling on edge but excited. He had drawn 5th in the start up, going right before Viktor with his short program. And he was determined to make this performance count. 

Viktor had warmed slightly, but was still not his usual self. At Yakov’s promptings, Viktor had placed the “competitor mask” over his face, smiling when the circumstances required it and giving quotes when approached by the media and commentators. But Yuuri saw his nervousness, his uneasiness. 

So he was determined to show Viktor support and love through the one avenue he couldn’t overlook or ignore. Through his skating. Let  _ Eros _ be a show of complete and total devotion, of seduction and desire. Let him tell Viktor that he loved him, that he would always love him, through the way he skated the program Viktor had created for him. He only hoped that Viktor would pay attention, and perhaps skate  _ Mania _ in response. 

Before he was set to go on, Yuuri’s heart was racing. But not with fear. With determination and excitement. Viktor stood at the rink by his side, silent but supportive. There, but not really there. And just before they called Yuuri’s name, he moved in close to Viktor, wrapped his arms around his neck, and whispered, “Please watch me, Viktor. This is for you.”

Yuuri threw himself into  _ Eros  _ like never before. He skated to seduce his Viktor, to pierce an arrow through his heart and ensnare him, body and soul.  _ Watch me, Viktor. See me. I’m skating for you and only for you.  _

As he dove and tipped and turned, completing every jump and quad with flawless and agile movements, he felt his heart calling out to Viktor, begging him to understand.  _ I love you. I’m yours. I want to be everything to you and for you. I want to protect you and worship you and fuck you and take you apart and put you back together. Every part of me is yours.  _

When he ended his performance, his eyes were glazed over in tears. And when he looked out to the edge of the rink, to see tears streaming down Viktor’s face in response, he couldn’t help himself. He skated to Viktor with full speed, leapt into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder as Viktor held him, stroking his hair. 

“Yuuri, that was beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“It was for you, Vitya. The whole performance. It was all for you.”

“I know,” Viktor whispered. “I know.”

He didn’t dare allow himself to kiss Viktor. Not so publically. But as he glanced over at Max’s smug face watching them, he wished that he could. Wished that he could force his tongue down Viktor’s throat and caress every inch of Viktor’s body. Wished that he could stake his claim publically so that Max might never again believe there was a chance of stealing Viktor away. 

Yuuri almost couldn’t breathe as Viktor held his hand in the Kiss and Cry. When his scores were announced, he almost broke down into sobs. 

  1. 52



It was only a point away from Viktor’s world record. Upon seeing Yuuri’s score broadcasted across the rink, Viktor leapt into the air and cheered. It was the happiest, the most exuberant, Yuuri had seen him since Europeans. Since before he had heard about his father’s release. 

When he turned around to look at Yuuri, his eyes were sparkling and his his lips were stretched from ear to ear in a true smile. 

“You’re amazing, My Yuuri. You’re amazing!”

 

* * *

 

Viktor’s performance was nothing short of stunning. It was the most passionate and lucid that Yuuri had ever seen from him. But only Yuuri knew what this performance really was. 

It was a response to his  _ Eros.  _ It was Viktor’s heart calling out in reply to Yuuri’s. 

It was his apology for weeks of solemnity and stubbornness. It was a declaration of love and affection. It was everything Yuuri had ever wanted. 

As Yuuri stood, pressed against the edge of the rink, completely entranced, he barely noticed Maxim Volkov’s hooded green eyes watching in similar fascination and desire. His fingers were clenched around the barrier with intensity and vehemence. And when Viktor ended his performance, both men lended their hands to the raucous and deafening applause. 

“That was so fucking gorgeous!” Max bellowed as Viktor approached. “I’ve never been this hard watching someone skate!”

Viktor laughed at that comment, though Yuuri wanted to wrap his hands around Max’s throat. But his thoughts were soon stolen away as Viktor enveloped him in a hug. It wasn’t sexually charged, but still, it felt warm,  _ good  _ to be held by Viktor.

“ _ Ya lyublyu tebya, Yuuri. _ ”

Viktor’s scores were announced to cheers and tears of joy.

_ 118.98 _

Their scores were only marginally apart from one another. Their hearts had been perfectly in sync. Yuuri clapped enthusiastically watching Viktor in the Kiss and Cry.

As the day’s proceedings winded down, Yuuri headed to the locker room to gather his things. And much to his surprise and joy, Viktor snuck up behind him and hugged him from behind, pressing his nose into the back of Yuuri’s neck. 

“All set, Viktor? I thought maybe we could get dinner and then get in the hot-tub for a bit?” Yuuri asked with a blush settling over his cheeks.

“Mmm...that sounds wonderful, My Yuuri. Go ahead and head up without me, ok? I have to find Yakov and run through his critiques. I shouldn’t be too long.” As Yuuri turned around to face Viktor, Viktor moved in to kiss his lips. He slipped a hand around the back of Yuuri’s neck and ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. 

Yuuri nodded. “Ok,” he whispered. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Never,” Vikor grinned. 

As Yuuri departed the locker room, he chanced one more glance at Viktor, watching him shrug on his white and red competition jacket over his  _ Mania  _ costume. He was finally getting his Viktor back. That sweet smile, that gentle touch. That performance that he had skated for Yuuri alone. 

He was heading to the doors of the rink when his phone dinged and vibrated in his pocket, signifying an incoming text message. As he withdrew his phone, the name “Max Volkov” illuminated the screen. He raised an eyebrow as he unlocked the phone. 

_ I’ll be in the locker room in 5 minutes. I can’t wait to get my hands all over you.  _

Yuuri’s eyes widened as he inhaled sharply. Immediately after the first text came in, another shot through. 

_ Sorry. Wrong person.  _

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. His thoughts immediately went to Viktor, alone in the locker room. Viktor telling him not to wait for him. Viktor and Max whispering, in close contact, speaking in Russian in the early hours of the morning. 

He knew he should trust Viktor. But, against his best judgement, Yuuri tiptoed back into the locker room and held his breath. He could hear voices. 

“Fuck. That performance was so fucking gorgeous. You were so fucking gorgeous.”  _ Max.  _

Yuuri eased further into the room, hiding behind a corner and peering inside. He could see Viktor, still dressed in his red suit. He could see Max throwing his arms around Viktor, pushing him against one of the walls. 

“I felt it. It was so real. I felt every emotion. I meant it.”  _ Viktor’s voice.  _

“I could tell. Mmm it was so fucking hot.” Max was running his nose over Viktor’s neck as they embraced, as if taking in his scent, inhaling the smell of sweat and skin and cologne. Inhaling the smell of Viktor. 

_ No, no, no.  _ Yuuri was feeling sick. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. 

Viktor chuckled lightly, putting both of his hands on Max’s chest, pushing him away ever so slightly. “Thank you, Max.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Max asked, his eyes dark and lusty. Yuuri could see the flush of his cheeks where he was hidden in the shadows. 

“Tonight,” Viktor said warmly. “I’m going to tell him tonight.”

“Fuck,” Max breathed out. “You’re so fucking hot, Viktor.”

And then Max pushed Viktor back against the lockers with a deep, sloppy kiss. Yuuri could see Max forcing his tongue into Viktor’s mouth as his hands wound around the back of Viktor’s neck, toying with the stray silver hairs there. 

Yuuri’s world shattered down around him. He lost his breath, felt he could die. As he staggered backwards, his phone fell from his hands, landing on the hard tile floor of the locker room with a resounding, echoing clatter. As Yuuri struggled to scoop it back up, he heard Viktor’s voice, Viktor’s voice saying his name in shock and surprise. 

“Yuuri…!” Yuuri looked up to see Viktor’s wide blue eyes staring at him, his mouth hanging open. “Yuuri, wait…!”

But Yuuri didn’t wait. He turned and bolted from the locker room, as tears started to well behind his eyes. He’d been wrong. He’d been so wrong the whole time. Believing that Viktor could want him. Believing that Viktor just needed time. Believing that Viktor could be trusted. 

Viktor was behind him, chasing after him, screaming his name. “Yuuri, please! Wait! That wasn’t what it looked like! Yuuri! Please! Please!”

But Yuuri didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t hear it. The lies. The deceit. This whole time, he had thought he had known who Viktor was. He was wrong. 

Yuuri stumbled out into the night air of Moscow. He wasn’t sure exactly when Viktor had stopped following him. But now, looking around at the busy streets, Yuuri realized he was alone. It was cold. Really cold. Yuuri pulled his jacket around himself and walked. He didn’t know where he would go or what he would do. But he didn’t want to go back to the hotel room. And he didn’t want to talk to Viktor. 

So, as stupid as it was, he just...walked. And he thought. And he walked and he thought. And he took his time muddling through the mess in which he had found himself. 

He thought about the last few days. He thought about what had happened and what had been revealed. He thought about Max’s words. He thought about the touch of Viktor’s hands, the feel of Viktor’s cock inside him. Why do all those things? Say all those words? Why wrap Yuuri around his finger, bring him all the way to Russia...just to choose someone else?

It didn’t make sense. Maybe Viktor was just as Max had said...an “affection-whore.” Maybe he just needed to be wanted, to be revered and worshipped and loved. And maybe once he got that love, he didn’t need it anymore. Maybe all Yuuri had been was a vessel for that love...as Chris had once called him, the “human personification” of Viktor’s fan club. 

But  _ Mania.  _ That performance. Yuuri could have sworn that Viktor’s performance has been for him. Maybe he had been wrong...maybe it had been for Max the whole time. Maybe what Viktor wanted to tell him...was that he was leaving him for Max. That it was over between them.

Yuuri found a bench not too far from their hotel, and sat down, burying his head in his hands. Where would they go from here? Everything hurt. Especially his heart. It hurt in a way he had never before experienced. Could never have anticipated. 

He had trusted Viktor not to hurt him. Had trusted Viktor with his fragile heart. 

One way or another, he couldn’t spend the night outside in the cold. One way or another, he would have to face Viktor, hear his explanation. And one way or another, this would come to some resolution. 

Yuuri checked his phone which, luckily, hadn’t been cracked or damaged from the fall. But there were no texts from Viktor.  _ None.  _

He sighed heavily and headed back to the hotel, pulling his coat tight around him. When finally he arrived, his heart began to pound as he slipped the key into the door. But he was greeted only by darkness. Viktor hadn’t returned. 

He checked the time. It was well past midnight now. And Viktor hadn’t texted or come back. Resignedly, he shot him a text.

_ Viktor, I’m back in the hotel room. I want to talk.  _

Nothing. As hour passed. Still no response. 

Yuuri forced himself to climb into bed, under the covers. Before closing his eyes, he tried to send one more text. 

_ Please come back, Viktor. I want to work this out. I want to try. Please.  _

He was met by only silence. Alone, he curled into a ball and cried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I hope this chapter wasn't too OOC for Viktor. I imagine that when confronted with something embarrassing or scary, he falls into himself and pulls away from others. I feel like for him, there is guilt and shame. And as much as he loves Yuuri, he can't help but pull away. 
> 
> Next chapter is a Viktor perspective chapter. And things GO DOWN. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Love you all :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Friends! Happy Sunday!!
> 
> Thank you all SO SO much for your comments and feedback! It's been so much fun communicating with all of you! 
> 
> So, this chapter comes with TRIGGER WARNINGS. If you've read the tags, you know what you're getting into. So read with caution.

The last few weeks had been miserable for Viktor. He was a mess. A fucking mess. And he knew it. He hated himself for it, knowing the burden he was putting on Yuuri, but unable to pull himself out of it.

It had been over 7 years since he had seen or heard from his father. Because of the restraining order, and the nature of his father’s crimes against him, Boris Nikiforov had been forbidden from contacting his son.

There was no explaining that letter. Viktor recognized the handwriting immediately. Somehow, Boris Nikiforov had written that letter from inside his jail cell...and somehow he had coerced _someone_ to deliver it to Viktor’s doorstep.

And that meant that soon, Yuuri might be in danger. And it was all Viktor’s fault.

He teetered on the brink of self-destruction in the weeks after Vienna. On one hand, he hated himself for endangering Yuuri. And on the other, he hated himself even more for not being willing to let Yuuri go. Even if it meant saving his life, Viktor couldn’t let Yuuri go.

Immediately after reading those horrible words, Viktor had called Max. He had panicked and in his panic, he had reached out to the one person who had seen what Boris Nikiforov was capable of. Max had seen it with his own two eyes. He had been there. He had saved Viktor’s life. No one else could possibly understand. Not Yakov. Not even Yuuri. Perhaps especially not Yuuri. There was a part of Viktor that didn’t want Yuuri to have to understand that darkness, to have to experience it.

There was this perfect, unique innocence in Yuuri. It was something special, something precious. And Viktor didn’t want to tarnish it with his own darkness. With the overwhelming darkness of his past. It wasn’t fair to Yuuri. And Viktor had no right to dull his sunshine.

So he had turned to Max. To the one person he knew would understand.

When he relayed the contents of the letter to Max, his expectation was that Max would gasp or growl in disgust. But instead Max was silent. Calm. Impassive.

“You think it’s from your father?”

“I know it is…”

More silence. Then, “And what are you going to do about that?”

Viktor choked. “What do you mean - ?”

“What are you going to do about _Yuuri?”_

Viktor hesitated, his voice low and his throat dry. “What about Yuuri?”

“You going to tell him?”

“I don’t want to worry him…”

Exasperation was now evident in Max’s deep voice. “Worry him? This will do more than worry him, Viktor...this could...push him away.”

Viktor swallowed hard. “You think he - ?”

“Would leave you? Viktor...be rational.. Who wouldn’t? Yuuri would be putting himself in danger by staying.”

“But, I would never let anything happen to him…”

“You think you can _stop_ it from happening? You weren’t able to stop it from happening last time.”

Viktor had to grasp on to the sink to stop his knees from giving out as he remembered. Remembering the feel of the metal bat cracking against his legs. If Max hadn’t been there...he might never have been able to skate again…

“What if it isn’t a bat this time, Viktor? What if it’s a gun?” Max’s voice was cold and hard. Blunt.

“What do you think I should do, then?” Viktor was desperate.

“You have to let Yuuri go, Viktor. You have to. You can’t put him in this situation against his will. It’s not fair to him.”

Viktor’s head was swimming. “No…” he gasped.

“Viktor, be smart. Would you be able to forgive yourself if something happened to him?”

“Max, you can’t be serious…I love...I...”

“You love him, Viktor? Really? That soft little boy?” His voice was laced with arsenic and derision and Viktor bristled.

“Don’t talk about him that way, Max.”

“I’m sorry, Viktor. It’s just so...unlike you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Viktor shot.

“You’ve always been such a free spirit. I just didn’t ever imagine you allowing yourself to be tied down. Especially to someone so...simple as Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Yuuri’s not simple, Max. He’s good. Truly good in a way you and I could ever understand.”

“And you’re willing to put someone like that in harm’s way because you’re too selfish to let him go?”

“I can’t lose him, Max. It would...kill me. Maybe I am selfish. But I can’t...I can’t…” Viktor felt tears slipping from his eyes and running down his cheeks.

“Viktor…” Max’s voice had softened, if ever so slightly. “If that’s really how you feel...then you have to keep it from him. If you’re too selfish to let him go, you can’t tell him the truth. Or you will lose him.”

Viktor felt a panging pain in his heart. Guilt. Grief. Fear. Hadn’t they just made a promise to one another not to hide anything? Not to keep secrets? To be open and honest? Was he seriously considering hiding this from Yuuri?

“Viktor, if you need anything, you know you can come to me, right?” Max’s tone was gentle now. “I’ll be a safe place for you. You know you can trust me.”

“Thank you, Max,” Viktor whispered with his heart in his throat. “I have to go.”

“Okay. Bye, Vitya.”

Viktor sat there alone for a few minutes after hanging up. His head in his hands, rocking back and forth on the floor, he began to cry quietly, allowing hot tears to stream down his face. Why was this happening? Why now, after all these years?

He didn’t even want to be a part of that family anymore. He had separated himself from it long ago. Yakov was his father...Lilia was his mother. The only part of Boris Nikiforov that still remained was his last name...and that last name was now more of a burden than a source of pride for Viktor. He couldn’t imagine a world in which he would ever want to hurt his own child. No matter what that child did. But, perhaps, for some people, love was not an unconditional thing.

For some people, love had to be earned. It wasn’t given freely. Viktor didn’t see love that way.

But the fact remained...Boris Nikiforov did not see eye to eye with his son. And perhaps never would. Boris Nikiforov had no love in his heart for Viktor. Viktor was a blight on his honor, a smudge of dirt on his otherwise unblemished family name.

And Viktor wasn’t sure why it seemed like a good idea...but he decided to keep his worries and trepidations from Yuuri. For fear of worrying him. For fear of losing him.

In the days that followed, Viktor knew that Yuuri felt his absence. Felt him pulling away. But it wasn’t that...he wasn’t pulling away from Yuuri. Not really. In his heart he knew. He _loved_ Yuuri. He loved the soft warmth of his body. His sweet yet masculine smell. He loved Yuuri’s kindness, the way he cared about the people for whom he cared deeply. He loved the brightness of his smile. The pink flush of his cheeks when he was embarrassed or aroused. Viktor loved the sound of his laughter. The softness of his skin.

Viktor loved everything about this man. This man who had made his life substantially better. This man who had revived his purpose, his passion. This man who had taught him the meaning of life and love.

And yet, Viktor felt he was betraying Yuuri. And that he was unable to stop it.

“Stay strong, Viktor,” Max would warn him. “You have to stay strong or you’ll lose him.”

Part of Viktor wondered about Max’s intentions. But they were _friends_. Why would Max lead him astray? Especially when he knew how he felt about Yuuri?

The morning of their departure for Four Continents, Viktor rose before Yuuri. He sat up in bed to see that beautiful face flushed with sleep, and those long soft black locks framing his face. He looked peaceful and innocent. Perfectly warm and content. He looked like home. And Viktor realized he had been a fool.

He pulled his phone from his bedside table and sent a simple text to Max.

_I’m going to tell him. At Four Continents. I’m going to tell Yuuri everything._

Max’s response didn’t come immediately. Viktor watched the three dots blink at the bottom of the screen, disappear, and then start blinking again. Then, finally Max’s text came through.

_Is that a good idea? When you’re both competing?_

_It’s the best idea. Yuuri and I have always communicated best through our skating. I’m going to skate Mania for him...I’m going to dedicate it to him. And then I’m going to tell him I love him._

Again with the blinking dots.

_Whatever you think is best, Viktor._

Viktor felt himself starting to open back up, to lose some anxiety and regain some purpose on the long plane ride with Yuuri by his side. Yuuri, his Yuuri, was such a blessing to him, such a radiant, positive force. He couldn’t wait to tell him that he loved him in words he could understand.  And though he was terrified, he was determined to tell him the truth. To tell him about the contents of that letter. And to give him the option to leave. But in his heart, Viktor knew that Yuuri would never take it. He knew that Yuuri loved him just as much as he loved Yuuri.

And that belief was solidified when Yuuri skated _Eros_ two days later.

Viktor had never seen him skate that program in that way before. Usually, his movements were coy and lithe and seductive. And there was no lack of seduction this time around. But this performance was _different._ It was like Yuuri’s soul calling out to Viktor’s, saying the three words he had so longed to hear. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

Viktor’s heart was beating in time with that music as he realized: They had had the same idea. They had decided, without speaking, to skate for each other and each other alone.

 _Oh, My Yuuri,_ Viktor thought. _My heart beats only for you. You’re everything to me._

Viktor wanted to cry when Yuuri ended his performance, when he skated up to him and enveloped him in an embrace. In the Kiss and Cry, he couldn’t help but gaze lovingly at that man, that beautiful man that had been made just for him.

When it was his turn to take the ice, Viktor skated with everything he had. He skated as if only Yuuri was watching, baring his heart and soul to the man he loved more than life. And when he finished, he knew from the look on Yuuri’s eyes, that the message had been received.

Viktor was back. Yuuri had brought him back from the dead. With his patience and his love and his kindness and his devotion. With his passion. For a brief moment, all the bad, all the negative, all the hurt, was forgotten. And there was only Viktor and Yuuri. Their love surpassed all things. Viktor felt he could walk on air.

But he couldn’t have expected what came next. He couldn’t have expected Max to force him against the wall of the locker room and press a harsh and hasty kiss to his lips. He couldn’t have expected Yuuri to be standing right there...to have witnessed it all.

 _No, no, no._ This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t what it looked like. What had Max been thinking?

Viktor ran after Yuuri, begging his forgiveness, pleading with him to come back. _Please, Yuuri stay. Please. Please. Come back. I love you. I love you. I love you._

But Yuuri was gone, disappearing into the darkness. And Viktor was left alone. Again. Shivering in the cold. He could feel the anxiety, the desperation, the fear, creeping back in, taking root and blossoming inside of him like a venomous man-eating flower.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Viktor!” Max was running towards him, his arms outstretched to wrap him up against the cold. “What happened? What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Viktor growled, whirling on Max and stepping out of his grasp. “You _kissed_ me! What the hell were you thinking?”

Max blanched. “I...I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry...I...your performance was so...gorgeous, I…”

“Yuuri _saw_ you,” Viktor snarled at him with teeth bared. “Yuuri saw you and now he thinks...oh god...he thinks…” He was dissolving into tears now, shaking, and not from the cold. Though he didn’t want it, Viktor could feel Max’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Viktor...it’s fine. I’ll explain everything to him. It was my fault and I’ll tell him so. We’ll fix it. Come on. Let’s get out of the cold. Come on.” Max was urging him back inside, tugging gently at his sleeve. “Let’s go back to my room. Wait it out.”

“But, Yuuri…”

“Yuuri is an adult. He’ll be fine. Probably just has to clear his head. You need to give him some space Viktor.”

“But...it was a misunderstanding. I need to text him - !” When Viktor reached into his pocket to withdraw his phone, Max snatched it from his hands.

“No. Viktor. He needs space. He doesn’t want to talk right now or he would have come back instead of running away.”

Viktor felt anger starting to curl inside his stomach as he glowered at Max. “Give me my phone,” he said, his voice low.

“Not right now. Trust me, Vitya. Come on, let’s go back to my room, have a drink and settle down, hmm? You have a performance tomorrow. We can’t have you running all over the city and getting no rest.”

“Yuuri is out there.”

“Then Yuuri dooms his own performance. Not yours. Let’s go.” Max slung Viktor’s coat over his shoulders and grabbed a hold of his skating bag before slipping his hand into Viktor’s and pulling him in the direction of their hotel.

Viktor felt sick. His head was spinning and his limbs felt weak with anxiety. But Max had his phone. And until he got it back, Viktor wouldn’t be able to find Yuuri, to text Yuuri, to apologize. So he followed behind Max with his hands clenched in the pockets of his jacket.  

When they arrived at Max’s hotel room, Max slipped the key in the door before holding it open for Viktor to enter. The room was clean, much the same as the room Viktor was sharing with Yuuri.

_Yuuri. I need to go find Yuuri._

Max slipped Viktor’s coat from his shoulders before laying it on his bed. “Here, I’ll make you a drink. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and change out of your costume, yea? Get a little more comfortable.”

Viktor nodded. It _would_ feel good to get back in sweatpants and out of his tight fitting _Mania_ costume. Without hesitation, he grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom, changing quickly. The sooner he changed, the sooner he could get his phone back, the sooner he could go look for Yuuri. Make sure he was ok.

When Viktor stepped out of the bathroom, Max was lounging on the gray leather sofa in front of the television, a drink in his hand. He smiled when he saw Viktor and held a glass out to him as well. It was filled with a light pink liquid. “Come on, have a quick drink. I made it extra fruity and girly like you like it.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, but took the glass anyway. It did smell good. Alcohol-y but good. He took a sip. Cherry and vodka. Max certainly did know his tastes. He took another sip before downing the glass to calm his nerves.

“Will you come sit down for a second? Yuuri will be fine,” Max implored, his tone playful and light. As though Yuuri wasn’t missing. As though Yuuri hadn’t just caught Viktor being kissed by another man.

Viktor’s shoulders tensed in response. “Give me my phone, Max.” He attempted a firm, unyielding tone, but at his words, Max simply smirked.

“Come and get it, Nikiforov.” He lightly patted his hip pocket and the phone-shaped bulge beneath the fabric, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Max,” Viktor warned.

“Viktor, what are you so worried about? I told you, I’ll explain the whole thing to Yuuri. Jesus.” Max’s voice was heavily exasperated. “It’s not like that little runt even deserves you anyway.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “Deserves me?”

“It’s just so like you, Viktor. To go for someone like that. Someone who worships you. You always have loved being loved, haven’t you?”

Viktor bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think it all stems back to your daddy, doesn’t it? Daddy Nikiforov never loved you. So you had to get all the love you were lacking from somewhere else, huh?”

“Stop it, Max,” Viktor warned, feeling anger heat his cheeks.

“I wonder then...why you didn’t love me? Why was _I_ never good enough for you?” Max rose to his feet, approaching Viktor with wide, lusty eyes. “I _loved_ you, Viktor. I _worshipped_ you. You knew that I did.”

“Max, we’ve talked about this,” Viktor growled. “You wanted me to be someone I’m not. You didn’t want the real Viktor. You wanted the _Living Legend._ You wanted a trophy for your wall. You didn’t want me. You didn’t love me. Not the real me.”

“You have no idea what I wanted. Because you never listened. You were always looking somewhere else. Always flirting, always batting your pretty eyes. And then this fucking Katsuki Yuuri comes along and all of a sudden, you want to settle down?” The intensity of Max’s glare was beginning to ring alarm bells in Viktor’s mind.

“Yuuri sees me, Max. He wants me just as I am…”

“And I _don’t_?” Max’s voice was raised now, his green eyes wild. Viktor startled back, feeling suddenly wobbly on his feet. He staggered as Max grabbed both of his wrists in one of his own and forced him to his back onto the couch. “Viktor, I loved you. I still do. Don’t you see that?”

Viktor’s head was starting to hurt. His eyelashes fluttered as he tried to sit up. A wave of nausea crashed over him and he swayed unsteadily where he was planted on the leather fabric. Max was leaning over him now, his eyes boring into Viktor’s.

“Max, stop it. Give me my phone. I need to...I have to...find Yuuri.”

“Stop worrying about Yuuri! He’s nothing! He’s always been nothing. He’s no more than a pet that you’ve taken on to make you feel better about yourself. And you know what? You’re wrong. He doesn’t love you. He never did. He loves the _Living Legend_ more than anyone else. I bet he used to jack off to your pictures...bet he had them plastered all over his walls.”

Viktor felt sick. His head was spinning. “No...you don’t know what you’re - !”

“You know the truth, don’t you Viktor. No one else can protect you like I can. I saved your life. I was there when your daddy tried to kill you, wasn’t I? I risked my own life to protect you, didn’t I? I testified and sent your daddy to jail, didn’t I? You owe me. You’ve owed me for a long fucking time.”

And then his lips were on Viktor’s again, crashing over him hard and heavy and chaotic. _Manic_. “How many times did you call me up just for a fuck, huh? How many times?”

Viktor was struggling, but his limbs felt weak, leaden.  The world around him was spinning and yet moving in horrifying slow motion at the same time. “Stop,” he begged. “Stop. Max. Please.” But his voice was quiet, incoherent. It burbled from his mouth like a desperate string of nonsense.

“Did you ever think about what that did to me? All those casual fucks? All those nights of dreaming about you and then going home alone? But...I was so selfless, wasn’t I? I made you feel good, didn’t I? In spite of my own pain, I made you feel good. I can make you feel good again, Vitya. I can help you remember everything you’ve been missing...everything you’re not getting from Katsuki Yuuri.” Max was climbing on top of him now, tearing at his clothes. Viktor could hear the sound of ripping fabric, but his eyes were sealing themselves shut. Despite his best efforts to fight, he was losing control.

He was falling, falling, falling. Unable to stop. “No...no...stop. Please…” He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Blackness surrounded him and he couldn’t feel, couldn't think, couldn't move. He was alone again. In the darkness, he was all alone.

 

* * *

When Viktor awoke, it was still dark outside. He wasn’t sure where he was...but he was in a good deal of pain. His head was pounding...and his back was agonizingly tight. Every time he shifted or attempted to move, a wave of nausea overtook him, shooting bolts of pain down his back and in between his legs. He was in bed...but Yuuri wasn’t beside him. He was alone...naked...He struggled to sit up, and a wave of electric agony shot up his spine. “Fuck…” he hissed through gritted teeth.

As he struggled to move, he felt a wetness clinging to him. The sheets on the bed were...wet. Sticky. As his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, Viktor could see a dark stain coloring the white hotel sheets...blood? Was he _bleeding_?

“Good morning, sunshine. You’re up early.” The lights flashed on, and Viktor’s eyes widened to see Max striding towards him wearing only a pair of sweatpants low on his hips. His long brown hair was down, flowing over his shoulders, and a pair of wide-rimmed glasses sat atop his nose. He was holding two steaming cups of coffee in his hands and held one out to Viktor.

“What...did you do?” Viktor whispered. “Why am I here? What happened?”

Max smirked. “You don’t remember?”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed and he attempted to pick himself up off the bed, only to fall back in pain. He felt...torn....the blood covering the sheets around his naked form seemed to have emanated from between his legs and was now smeared on the inside of his thighs. He didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything. The last thing he could recall was Max offering to make him a drink as he changed into his sweatpants in the bathroom.

“Oh, Vitya. You’re bleeding…” Max approached, setting the coffee mugs down on the nightstand beside Viktor. “I might have gotten a little carried away…But you _were_ begging for it. I thought you wanted it rough…”

Viktor’s stomach churned. _No, no, no._ He shook his head, suddenly freezing cold and trembling all over. “No…” he choked out and Max slipped a hand under his chin to bring their eyes to meet.

“What do you mean, _no_? That’s not what you were saying last night…”

“I don’t...I can’t remember…” Viktor couldn’t breathe. He was hyperventilating and the pain in his back was excruciating agony. “No...I wouldn’t...Yuuri...where’s Yuuri…”

“Forget about Yuuri,” Max hissed, grasping hold of Viktor’s chin with violent, vehement fingers that dug into Viktor’s flesh. “You _cheated_ on Yuuri, Viktor. You begged me to fuck you last night...You were on your hands and knees begging me to fuck you harder and harder. You think that Yuuri will want you after that?”

Viktor started to cry, tears tumbling down his face. “No...no. No, I didn’t...I wouldn’t…”

“You DID,” Max wrapped both of his hands around Viktor’s neck to bring their faces together for a rough kiss. Though Viktor struggled, Max’s grip around his neck was slowly cutting off his oxygen. “You’ve always been a fucking slut, Viktor. Always a fucking whore. You’d fuck anyone who’d give you even a little bit of attention. This is so you though...to play the victim. To say you _can’t remember_. That you didn’t want it...fucking slut.”

He released Viktor, pushing him back against the mattress. “You need to get up, Viktor. You still have to skate today. Besides, looks like little _Yuuri_ is missing you.”

Max reached into the pocket of his sweatpants to retrieve Viktor’s phone and toss it on the bed. Viktor reached for it with desperate hands as a bolt of electric pain shot up his spine. He forced himself to ignore the throbbing of his body as he read the two most recent text messages from his Yuuri.

_Viktor, I’m back in the hotel room. I want to talk._

_Please come back, Viktor. I want to work this out. I want to try. Please._

The texts were separated by an hour, sent at first at 12:30am and then again at 1:30am. Yuuri had been trying to contact him, had wanted to work everything out. _Oh god, Yuuri. What have I done?_

Viktor forced himself to fight through the pain to stand, pushing past Max, away from the bed.

“I have to go.” He struggled into the living quarters and grabbed his sweatpants and t-shirt that had been laid out on the couch. His body ached and he knew he was covered in blood, but he couldn’t worry about that now. All he cared about now was Yuuri. Getting back to Yuuri. Making it right.

“Go ahead. Go,” Max snarled, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “It’ll all be over soon anyway.”

Viktor froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Not like he’s going to stay with you after this,” Max said coldly.

Viktor wracked his brain. He wished he could remember. How much had he had to drink? He wouldn’t have drank much, knowing he had a competition the next day, knowing Yuuri was upset with him.

“I have to go,” he said again, grabbing his things and struggling toward the door, doing his best to ignore Max’s cold and sardonic eyes behind his glasses.

Viktor didn’t hesitate. He stepped outside the door of Max’s hotel room, nearly collapsing in the hallway. He had to get to Yuuri. Had to get to him. Had to explain, to apologize. His body was on fire with every step. Between his legs, the pain was excruciating, almost unbearable. He’d never felt like this after sex...if that was even what it had been.

He shook his head as he struggled toward the elevator. No. He wouldn’t have had sex with Max. Not the night before a competition. Not when he was fully committed and in love with Yuuri. Viktor had always been free with the love he gave...but he wasn't a cheater. And Yuuri had changed all of that. Love...sex...with Yuuri...was different. It was more than just a meeting of the flesh. It was more than mere pleasure. It was connection. It meant so much.

He wouldn’t have jeopardized that. No matter how drunk he was. He wouldn't have.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and shot a desperate text to Yuuri.

_Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I’m on my way back. I’m so sorry. I’ll be there in a minute and we can talk, ok?_

No response. _What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?_

By the time he arrived at their hotel room door, his heart was pounding and his body felt like it was on fire. How was he going to skate today? No, that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was Yuuri.

He didn’t knock or attempt to make his presence known. Viktor reached into his pocket and retrieved his room key, sliding it into the door and then turning the handle to step inside.

And what he saw broke his heart. Yuuri was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at his phone with tears streaming down his face and a hand clutched over his mouth. He was sobbing, heaving, massive sobs that wracked his body.

Viktor knew without having to be told...it was over.  

_What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Viktor didn't cheat on Yuuri...
> 
> Max is a piece of shit. 
> 
> What's going to happen now?!
> 
> I hope this wasn't too jarring for any of you! Please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> The response to the last chapter was wonderful! Thank you so much!
> 
> I'm excited with the trajectory of the story and how its unfolding. I'm actually thinking I may need to add another chapter...We'll see!

Viktor hadn’t come back to the hotel room that night. He hadn’t responded to Yuuri’s texts. And Yuuri was too stubborn to track him down. Too stubborn to beg. 

So he had laid alone, curled around himself, and had cried himself to sleep that night. Cried until he didn’t have any tears left. 

And he awoke early. Around 5am. Exhausted and still alone. Viktor’s things, his skates, his competition bag...none of them were in the room with him. Viktor hadn’t snuck in while Yuuri was sleeping. Viktor had never come back. 

Glancing down at his phone, Yuuri could see that his text messages to Viktor’s phone had been  _ Read  _ at 2:00am. But still no response. Yuuri couldn’t help the pit of dread and anxiety that had settled in his stomach. 

As he stumbled around his hotel room, getting himself dressed and prepared for the second day of competition, his eyes connected with his reflection in the large hotel room mirror...the dark circles under his eyes were like huge purple bruises. No makeup would be able to completely hide them. He reached for the bottle of hair gel that sat on the bathroom counter, to begin styling his hair, when his phone vibrated. A text incoming. 

He hastily grabbed his phone and stared down at the screen. Viktor. 

Yuuri’s heart was in his throat as he unlocked his phone. 

_ Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I’m on my way back. I’m so sorry. I’ll be there in a minute and we can talk, ok?  _

Yuuri wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d been alone all night, waiting for Viktor to return. And Viktor hadn’t come back. He hadn’t explained or apologized. He’d left Yuuri to stew and to worry. Yuuri set the phone back down, deciding not to respond just yet. But then it buzzed again. Yuuri sighed, preparing for the onslaught of apology texts from Viktor. 

But this time, the name that popped up on the screen was not Viktor’s. It was Maxim Volkov’s. 

_ Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I know this will hurt you. I know this will probably break your heart. But you know how I feel about Viktor. You couldn’t have expected me to say no.  _

Then, another text came through. 

_ I’m so sorry, my friend.  _

The following texts took his breath away. He stumbled backwards to collapse on the bed as image after image came through in picture message form. 

Explicit images...Viktor’s naked body spread out on the couch...Viktor and Max wound tightly in an embrace...Viktor bent over, with Max’s cock in his mouth...in his…

Yuuri felt sick...He couldn't breathe. The pictures continued to come in. A hickey on the porcelain skin of Viktor’s neck...Viktor’s hand around Max’s hard cock...their nakedness...what they were doing...there was no more denying it. 

_ Yuuri, I’m so sorry. He came onto me, Yuuri. He was begging me for it. I’m so sorry. I don’t regret it. I just...thought that you needed to know.  _

Yuuri began to cry, tears streaming down his face. He covered his mouth with his hand as sobs wracked his body where he sat. 

When the door to the hotel room opened, Yuuri’s eyes were blinded by his own tears. He couldn’t stop crying, the sounds emanating from his mouth like the sounds of an animal caught in a trap, unable to escape...in excruciating pain. He was an absolute mess. 

“Yuuri…” Viktor’s voice filled his ears and immediately, Yuuri forcefully wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve. His brown eyes narrowed as he took in Viktor’s hunched and pale form, his tear-streaked cheeks, the tightly knit tension of his brow.

“Yuuri…” As Viktor began to approach, Yuuri could see that he was limping, and like a flash of lightning, Max’s words rang through his head. 

_ There were times when he would call me up just for a good fuck. When I was done, he could barely walk for days…  _

Yuuri couldn’t stop his eyes as they roved over Viktor’s body, stopping at the hickey on his neck. The same hickey from the pictures. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening...

Yuuri recoiled out of Viktor’s reach. “Don’t touch me,” he growled, surprised at his own vehemence. He hadn’t known he was capable of such spitefulness. But he was angry. So fucking angry. Betrayed. Broken-hearted. 

“Yuuri...wait...you don’t understand…” Viktor was reaching out, desperation in his eyes. 

“Did you have sex with him?” Yuuri choked out, and Viktor balked, open-mouthed, clearly struggling for words. 

“Yuuri…”

“ _ Did _ you?” Yuuri demanded. 

Viktor swayed on his feet, shaking his head, trembling. “I can’t...I don’t...I don’t remember…”

“What do you mean you don’t remember? Did you let him fuck you or not?” Viktor flinched at Yuuri’s harsh tone, at the look of naked resentment on his face. 

Viktor gasped...whether it was from pain or from the shock of Yuuri’s harsh words, Yuuri was unsure. “Yuuri...please. Come here…Please. Let me explain…”

“No!” Yuuri growled. “Don’t lie to me. Stop lying to me. You said you wouldn’t lie to me!”

Viktor blinked several times, his hands shaking as his arms wound around himself. Yuuri could see tears start to form...crocodile tears. The tears of a man who had been caught. “Yuuri...I’m not lying...I don’t remember. I wish I could. But I can’t.”

Yuuri had had enough. He opened his phone and thrust it into Viktor’s hands. “Do you remember this?”

Viktor’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he looked through the pictures that Max had sent. Yuuri doubted if those images hadn’t seared themselves into his own memory, never to be forgotten. Viktor gasped as he scrolled, shaking his head as tears began to fall from his eyes. “I didn’t...I wouldn’t...Yuuri…”

“The pictures are there, Viktor. You can’t deny it…”

“Yuuri...Please,” Viktor’s voice was desperate as he looked up at Yuuri was wide, tear-filled eyes. “I love you.”

Yuuri felt his heart sink.  _ I love you.  _ How long had he felt those words on the tip of his tongue? How often had those words threatened to fall from his lips? How long had he longed to hear those words come from Viktor’s mouth? And now, he was hearing them. And they felt hollow. The last ditch effort of a man who had been put on trial and was now attempting to wriggle his way out. 

“You  _ love  _ me?” Yuuri’s voice was low, venomous. “How can you say that to me, Viktor?”

Viktor gasped, choking on a sob as it escaped his throat. “Because it’s true, Yuuri. You have to believe that.  I’ve wanted to say it for so long.”

“So why say it now? Why, when you’re pinned against a wall, guilty...why now?”

“I was scared, Yuuri. Things haven’t exactly been easy...with my father getting released...with you just recently finding out about what he did - !”

“I accepted all of that. Without hesitation. I loved you in spite of it! I didn't care. I would have stood beside you through all of it. I would have protected you with everything I had!”

“And now?” Viktor was trembling, tears still actively flowing from his eyes. 

“And now...I can’t. I can’t do this anymore, Viktor. I can’t.”

Viktor’s shoulders slumped as his head fell into his hands. “Yuuri...please,” he sobbed. “Please don’t do this.”

“I didn’t,” Yuuri said, fighting back his own tears. “ _ You _ did this, Viktor.”

Viktor slumped to the floor, on his knees as his sobs consumed him. It  _ hurt.  _ Viktor was so beautiful when he cried. Soft and delicate and broken. As Yuuri watched Viktor, sitting there on his knees, holding his face in his hands and weeping silently, he wanted so badly to run to him, to scoop him up and hold him and dry his tears. 

But he willed himself to be strong. To be selfish for once in his life. Viktor didn’t love him. He loved the idea of him. He loved being loved. It was just as Chris had said. Just as Max had said. Yuuri had been wrong. 

Yuuri grabbed his skates, and stuffed them into his competition bag alongside his hair gel and the makeup he would need to cover the marks of the exhaustion that marred his face. Viktor’s soft, wet eyes watched him move about the hotel room, but he remained silent. 

Yuuri couldn’t meet those eyes as he brushed past Viktor to head towards the door. But, with his hand on the door knob, he paused. 

“You never loved  _ me _ , Viktor. You loved being loved by me. You loved how I made you feel about  _ yourself _ . I made you feel worshipped and revered. That’s how you are, isn’t it? You love being loved, but it will never be enough for you.  _ I  _ would never have been enough for you.” 

Viktor was shaking his head, his silver hair falling in his face. “No, Yuuri. That’s not true. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Yuuri felt himself choke on a sob that lingered in his throat. “You broke my heart, Viktor. After the competition, I’m going home. I’ll text you to arrange sending my things back to Hasetsu.”

Viktor was attempting to rise from where he was slumped on the floor. He was reaching out in desperation. “Please, Yuuri. Wait - !”

But Yuuri pulled open the hotel room door and stole into the hallway without looking back.  

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was scheduled to go first in the lineup. But despite his best efforts, he was unable to focus on competition. He sat in the locker room alone prior to taking the ice, with his head in his hands, contemplating his current predicament...the situation in which he had found himself. 

He’d never felt so miserable. Part of him wished he had never met Viktor Nikiforov, had never fallen in love with him. Was he happier prior to everything? When Viktor was just an image that adorned his walls? His idol? An untouchable skating legend?

But the larger part of him knew he had changed, grown and become something better than he had ever been...just by knowing Viktor.  

It didn’t make sense. What they had...it had been real. That connection, that spark, that trust. It couldn’t have all been a lie, could it have?

He had thought that he had known who Viktor was...that he had known who Viktor  _ really  _ was...He had thought he had known what Viktor wanted. That they had wanted the same things. 

How was he supposed to skate feeling like this? He felt worse now than he had over a year ago at the Sochi GPF. More hopeless, more defeated. Heart-broken. He’d never felt like this before. Never.

When Yuuri took the ice, he was determined to channel all his hurt into his performance.  _ Yuri on Ice  _ was meant to be his story. Of meeting Viktor, of finding his passion again. This time, he would skate the program as it came to a new conclusion. To its final conclusion. He would skate it like a man betrayed. A man who had lost everything. A man who’s heart had been shattered by losing the love of his life. 

It was a different performance than he had ever given. But as he moved about on the ice, he cleared his head and focused on the pain only, allowing it to course through him, driving his movements. He didn’t flub his jumps. But the passion had been drained from him. 

His final scores were lower than they had been in his most recent memory. 

_ 170.56. _

It wasn’t unexpected. He knew his performance was shit. It was somber and sad and lackluster. 

But as Yuuri watched from the sidelines, Viktor approached the edge of the rink, holding onto Yakov’s arm. And Yuuri’s breath was again stolen from his lungs. 

Viktor was beautiful, as always. Wrapped in the shining white and silver silk of the  _ Snow King  _ costume, with shimmering glitter all over his face and chest, he looked like a mystical, ethereal creature, something straight out of the fairy tales Yuuri’s mother had read him as a child. But Yuuri could see from the pinched expression on Viktor’s face, that he was in pain. Physical pain. He was unsteady on his legs, holding onto Yakov’s arm as if it were his lifeline. 

What had Viktor told Yakov? Had he told his coach about Max? About Yuuri? About everything that had transpired? 

Yuuri wracked his brain as he watched Viktor and Yakov conversing closely. From his vantage point, he could see Yakov speaking softly to Viktor, their faces close together. Was Yakov telling Viktor not to skate? Was he scolding him from his reckless decisions the night prior?

But as the announcers shouted out his name, Viktor straightened and greeted the crowd before skating out into the center of the rink with arms raised and a smile on his face. All his pain seemed to have vanished instantly, but Yuuri knew that his smile was fake, that it was hiding Viktor’s agony for the sake of his performance. 

As the  _ Snow King _ music began to play, Viktor began to skate. And though he was keeping time, his movements weren’t as crisp, not as defined and clean as they usually were. Yuuri gripped the railing tight between his fingers. From the subtle expressions on Viktor’s face, Yuuri could tell that Viktor was more than uncomfortable. His legs were shaking and his teeth were gritted. He was wobbling, unsteady on his skates. 

And then, Viktor leapt into his signature move. His quad flip. As Viktor twisted in the air, Yuuri could see his form failing. He could see what would happen even before it did. On his landing, Viktor’s legs gave out and he landed hard on his back, his head smacking against the ice with a resounding crack. As the music continued, Viktor lay unmoving, unconscious, unresponsive. And Yuuri’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. 

“No, no, no,” he spoke the words out loud as he moved toward the rink entrance, his eyes only for Viktor. “Viktor!” Yuuri screamed out Viktor’s name as he watched Yakov rush out onto the ice, as he heard the crowd gasping and muttering in fear and shock. 

But Viktor wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed, his form unresponsive. As Yuuri kept pushing forward, he watched as Yakov attempted to bring Viktor back to consciousness, stroking his cheek, bellowing his name. Yuuri could hear Yakov calling for help now, beckoning to the medics that were stationed around the rink. 

Yuuri was almost there, so close. He needed to be by Viktor’s side. Everything was forgotten. Everything that had happened. Viktor was hurt. Viktor needed help. But before Yuuri could step out onto the rink, a large, muscled form stepped in his path, blocking his movement forward.

_ Max.  _

“I would stay back, if I were you, Yuuri.” His voice was cold, his eyes glimmering dangerously in the low lights of the arena. 

“Get out of my way,” Yuuri barked. “Viktor’s hurt!”

“Seeing you will only make it worse! I know what you said to him. You’re the reason he’s flat on his back right now. You broke his heart right before he was set to compete.”

Rage consumed Yuuri like a forest fire. “You’re joking, right?”

“Viktor doesn’t want to see you,” Max snarled, bringing his face down to eye level with Yuuri’s own. “Viktor doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Yuuri had had enough. With both of his hands curled into fists, he pushed forward against Max’s thick chest, so that he stumbled backward. “Get out of my way.”

And then he was running across the slick ice, running towards Yakov and the medics and Viktor’s unconscious form. As he settled down beside Viktor, he grasped onto his right hand, willing Viktor to be ok with every ounce of strength he possessed. 

“Is he going to be ok?” he gasped, his eyes flickering to Yakov as the medics bustled around Viktor. 

Yakov looked up at Yuuri, concern etched deeply into the wrinkles of his face. “He’s breathing...What the hell happened last night, Katsuki?”

“Viktor didn’t tell you?”

Then, the medics were separating them, pushing them both back, away from Viktor as his body was loaded onto a gurney and rolled off the ice. 

In the spot where his body had lain...blood stained the ice, shockingly crimson against the clean white.  The sight took Yuuri’s breath away. His eyes narrowed with something unspoken...rage...fear...disgust...as he turned to look back at Maxim Volkov where he stood along the rink’s edge. 

This wasn’t right. What had Viktor said? 

_ I don’t remember. I wish I could. But I can’t. _

He had insisted that he couldn’t remember. He had sobbed and pleaded. He had been shaking and trembling in obvious pain. And now...the blood that stained the ice. The fall. Viktor Nikiforov  _ never  _ fell. 

Then Yuuri remembered the texts the night before. The texts that had come from Max to his phone. 

_ Sorry. Wrong person.  _

As if he had known that Yuuri would grow suspicious. As if he had known that Yuuri would see what he was about to do. Had Max set the whole thing up? Had Max…?

In desperation, Yuuri reached back into his pocket to retrieve his phone. He bit back the disgust as he pulled up the pictures that Max had sent him. 

In every picture, Viktor’s eyes were closed.  _ Every  _ picture. Was he...unconscious…?

“Katsuki!” Yakov’s voice echoed from across the rink, breaking Yuuri from his silent revelation. “Get off the ice!”

He nodded, stashing his phone back in his pocket before heading back to the rink’s edge. 

“He’s not going to be able to finish the competition. He’s been disqualified,” Yakov said, his voice low. Yuuri grimaced at those words, anger shooting hot and heavy through his blood. “They’re taking him to the nearest hospital for evaluation. I’m going to go with him.”

“I’m coming too!” Yuuri pressed but Yakov shook his head. 

“You need to see the results of the competition. I’ll text you the location of the hospital once we’re settled. Take a taxi afterwards and meet us there.” Yakov placed a gentle hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of Vitya.”

As Yakov disappeared from view, following behind the gurney, Yuuri caught his breath. And as the ice began to be cleared of Viktor’s blood, Yuuri scanned the crowd for Max. His lithe form was headed out the doors of the arena, possibly following Yakov outside. Yuuri trailed along in Max’s path, his mind churning and writhing. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, how he would prove the conclusion to which he had come. 

But he was going to confront Max. And he was going to make Max pay for what he did. For hurting Viktor. 

Yuuri followed Max outside, watching as Max retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and lit it before inhaling deeply. His body was leaning against a pillar in the drive of the arena and as Yuuri stalked toward him, he turned, his green eyes settling on Yuuri’s approaching form. 

“You just can’t stay away, can you Katsuki?” He spat. 

“I know what you did,” Yuuri growled lowly, drawing closer. 

A puff of smoke hit Yuuri right in the face as Max chuckled. “And what is that, Little Yuuri?”

“I know what you did to Viktor. Admit it. I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” Max’s dark eyebrows were raised as a sardonic and condescending smirk settled over his lips. 

“You couldn’t have him. He didn’t want you. And you couldn’t take it, could you? So you forced yourself on him. You hurt him.”

“I didn’t do anything he didn’t want me to do,” Max took another long drag of his cigarette, eyeing Yuuri defiantly. 

“That’s not true. You’re lying.”

Max leaned in, so his face was only inches from Yuuri’s. “Prove it.”

“Viktor’s going to the hospital. He can get a rape kit - !”

At that, Max threw his head back in a loud and condescending laugh. “Where do you think you are, Little Yuuri? You’re in Russia! Moscow, no less! No doctor is going to perform a  _ rape kit!  _ No doctor is going to cater to the gay figure skater who claims he’s been  _ raped!  _ Oh, Little Yuuri...you are so far away from home, aren’t you? You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, have you? You’re in dangerous waters, Little Yuuri. Dangerous territory. So you better fucking watch yourself.”

Yuuri balked at his words as a shiver of cold swept under his jacket, chilling him through. “I won’t let you get away with it,” he whispered. “I won’t let you hurt him...ever again.”

“What are you going to do, Little Yuuri? Should I be trembling in fear? You’re like a mouse caught in a trap. Squeaking and writhing. But defenseless. Pathetic. You’ve always been pathetic. From the first time I met you, I knew. I knew that Viktor would need something more than what you could provide. So I did just that. I provided. I gave him what he needed. And god, did he need it. He was so fucking tight…”

Yuuri couldn’t help himself. His hands balled into fists around Max’s neck, knocking him back against the pillar with a force of which he didn’t know he was capable. As Max’s eyes widened in shock, Yuuri gritted his teeth. “Don’t you fucking talk about him like that! I won’t let you.”

Max was smiling now, his bright white teeth glimmering in the crisp air. “So fiery. You really do love him, don’t you? Or at least think you do...”

“I’ll never let you come near him again,” Yuuri spat, shaking in fury. 

“Oh no? You’re going to stop me? You and all those muscles of yours?”

Yuuri blanched under his stare, his goading smile. Max was right...Yuuri was small compared to him, weak. But Max was a bully. And Yuuri had stood up against bullies before. He wouldn’t cower before this man...this man who had done unspeakable things to Viktor, who had hurt him beyond what Yuuri could have imagined. 

“You think Viktor will let you get close to him after what you’ve done? You betrayed his trust. You drugged him. Admit it. He was...unconscious in those pictures, wasn’t he?”

Max snorted, his derisive smirk still plainly etched on his smug features. 

“You think that Yakov will let you close to Viktor? Or Lilia? You really think I won’t tell them what you did?”

At that, Max’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know a goddamn thing, Katsuki. I didn’t do anything that Viktor didn’t want me to - !”

“Then why was he  _ bleeding _ ?” Yuuri bellowed, his voice shaking with passion and anger. “You raped him! He didn’t want you! He’ll never want you! No matter what you do! He’ll never love you!”

“I saved his life!” Max thrust out his arms, wrapping both fists around Yuuri’s neck and wringing the air from his lungs. “You don’t know anything, you pathetic piece of Japanese garbage! You’ll never be worthy of Viktor! You don’t deserve him! Why you?  _ Why you _ ?”

Yuuri struggled against Max’s long arms and his tight grip, gasping, unable to breathe. 

“I could kill you right here, Katsuki. Choke you to death and leave your broken piece of shit body here for everyone to see. And who would care? Who in Moscow would care about a second-rate Japanese skater who likes boys? No one. That’s who. Viktor would come to forget about you. The world would come to forget about you. But you know what? You’re not worth the effort I would expend.”

At that, Max released him, dropping him to his knees on the cold cement. Yuuri grabbed his throat, gasping and coughing. 

“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Katsuki. Viktor was mine long before he was yours.”

“Viktor’s not mine,” Yuuri struggled between wheezes. “Viktor’s not anyone’s. He doesn’t belong to either of us. Threaten me all you want. It doesn’t change what you did...what you did to someone you claim to love.”

“You really do want a beating, don’t you?” Max growled, stalking towards him. But any actions he might have taken were suddenly cut short at the sound of Yurio’s voice near the rink entrance. 

“Hey! What the hell is going on out here? Katsudon, you ok?” 

Max smirked. “He’s fine. Just overly dramatic about our dear Vitya’s little tumble on the ice. Aren’t you,  _ Little Yuuri?” _

Yuuri glowered at Max, as he sauntered away, past Yurio to head back into the arena. After his form disappeared from view, Yurio walked over to Yuuri and offered him a hand. “What the hell was that, Katsudon?”

Yuuri signed, rubbing his sore neck. “Max isn’t what he seems, Yuri. He hurt Viktor. And he’s going to hurt him again if he gets the chance.” 

“What makes you say that?” Yurio growled, his eyes hooded and his brow furrowed. 

“Just...trust me…” Yuuri said. “I have to call Yakov. I’ll meet you inside, ok?”

Yurio nodded before turning and heading back inside, leaving Yuuri alone in the freezing Moscow air. He shivered as he pulled out his phone and dialled Yakov’s number with his heart in his throat. 

“What?” Yakov’s deep and impatient voice greeted him after only one ring. 

“Yakov,” Yuuri could hear his own heart pounding against his ribcage. “I know what happened to Viktor. It was Max. Last night...he...he hurt him. I’m afraid he’s going to do it again. We can’t let him do it again…”

“What do you mean, Max  _ hurt _ him? What proof do you have?”

Yuuri sighed. “Last night, Viktor and I...we didn’t stay together last night. He didn’t come back to the hotel room. And this morning, he told me he couldn’t remember what happened. He was with Max and he couldn’t remember what had happened between them. But...Max sent me pictures, Yakov.”

Silence on the other end. What was Yakov thinking? 

“And?” Yakov’s voice was harsh in response. 

“And I think that Max drugged Viktor and...hurt him…while he was unconscious. I think he...raped him, Yakov.”

Yakov was silent again, but Yuuri could hear him breathing on the other end. 

“If we could get a rape kit - !” Yuuri started but Yakov cut him off abruptly. 

“That won’t be possible. Not in Moscow.”

“So...what? We allow Max to go unpunished for what he did?” Yuuri felt anger rising like bile to the back of his throat. 

“No. He won’t go unpunished.I promise you that.” After another silent moment, Yakov growled, “Have the placements been announced?”

“No…”Yuuri stuttered. 

“Then get off the phone. Meet us here when you’re finished.” He hung up without saying good-bye. And through Yakov hadn’t said much, the words he had said told Yuuri that Viktor would be protected and taken care of in his own absence. 

Resignedly, helpless to do anything more to help, Yuuri headed back inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is so great. He's smart and he's sassy, He's every one of us. He's just a good person. We LOVE Yuuri. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! What is going to happen now? Are Yuuri and Viktor going to get back together?  
> And how is Max going to react?  
> What is Yakov's plan?   
> And what about BORIS?!
> 
> LOL Much love! Thanks for your support and for reading this angst beast of a story!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii friends! Happy Friday!
> 
> Chapter 8 is here! 
> 
> So, coming up, I'm in the last two chapters...and Chapter 9 is really the last chapter. Chapter 10 is more of an epilogue. So, it may be a little longer for me to post Chapter 9, just knowing I want to wrap everything up nice and pretty. 
> 
> Thanks for the support and love!

Viktor could distinctly remember the first time he had felt real fear. Real fear for his life. It had been at his father’s hand. 

When Viktor was a child, his father had been aloof and removed, keeping to himself and leaving Viktor’s upbringing to his wife, Natanya. Natanya had doted on her son, giving Viktor everything he could have ever wanted and allowing him to be the truest version of himself. 

When Viktor had decided he wanted to grow out his hair, when he had wanted to wear sparkles and paint his face, Natanya had given in. But only ever out of sight and earshot of Boris Nikiforov. 

Viktor had been only six years old when his mother had first taken him to the skating rink. And almost immediately, Viktor had fallen in love. He had begged his mother to get him lessons and to take him back to the rink as many times as possible over the following weeks. And when he started to show real promise, Natanya had sought out the help of one Yakov Feltsman, to take Viktor under his wing and be his coach. 

It had been several weeks of being trained by Yakov, before Boris Nikiforov had found out about their dirty little secret. 

He nad rounded on his wife and battered her pretty face in front of Viktor, screaming at her about feminizing his son. As Viktor had huddled in the corner of the kitchen, watching his father’s fist beat his mother bloody, he had cried. And had felt so helpless. 

When his father had turned on him, Viktor had thought he was going to die. His father’s strong hands had made to crush his bones and grind him into dust. When Boris Nikiforov had finished with his son, Viktor had been covered in hues of black and blue over the canvas of his porcelain white skin. 

He had thought his skating career was over then. But he had been wrong. 

His mother, in all her compassion and pride, had refused to allow Viktor’s talent and passion to go to waste. And in the years that followed, she had defied her husband and taken Viktor to skate with Yakov nearly every day. 

His mother’s accident had almost ended it all for Viktor. He remembered standing by Natanya’s casket, tears falling from his eyes like raindrops from the sky. He remembered his father’s harsh hand tight upon his collar as if claiming him, claiming ownership over him. 

And his father had leaned in, while no one was looking or listening, and had whispered into Viktor’s ear. “No more of that sissy shit anymore, you hear? You’re my son, you’re going to be  _ my son.  _ And you’re going to bring honor to this family as a  _ man.  _ Do you understand?”

Viktor had remained silent, watching his mother’s tomb being lowered into the earth. 

It had been only at the tightening of Boris’s hand between his shoulder blades that Viktor had raised his eyes to meet his father’s. 

“Do you  _ understand _ , Viktor?” He could still remember the harsh and dangerous venom that had been laced into his father’s voice like arsenic. 

And Viktor had nodded. “Yes, sir,” he had said. But though Viktor had  _ understood _ his father’s words, he had had no intention of  _ obeying  _ them. 

Viktor could not regret his disobedience. It had gotten him out of his father’s home, adopted by a family that loved and supported him. So he couldn’t regret it. 

But at nine years old, his father had almost killed him...for the first time. 

After catching Viktor on his way home from the rink, Boris Nikiforov had thrown him against the edge of his bed and torn the belt from around his waist. Each lash that had landed on Viktor’s backside had burned resentment into his heart. When he no longer had had tears left to cry, Viktor had simply lain, numb, on his stomach, accepting the blows that had reigned down without restraint. 

When Yakov had found out about the beating, he had been furious. Boris would later say that Yakov had kidnapped his son. But the courts would rule otherwise. And by the time that Viktor was ten, he was living and skating with Yakov full time. 

And for a while, Viktor had thought that would be the last he would see or hear from his father. 

But as Viktor’s career began to gain momentum, and his fame began to skyrocket, a target was beginning to form on his back. Every action he took, every man he dated, every jump he landed was a new blow to his father’s ego. And while Viktor had long ago forgotten about his father, his mere existence was, to Boris Nikiforov, a blight, a burden and a curse. 

Viktor knew he was willful. That he made many rash decisions and stupid mistakes. But loving unconditionally...forgiving so easily...those weren’t mistakes. 

When his father had reached out and asked for his forgiveness, Viktor hadn’t questioned what his decision would be. Boris Nikiforov was a part of him, would always be a part of him. And though Viktor hadn’t been sure if he could forget the pain his father had inflicted on him, he had been determined to forgive. If it meant having a relationship with the only family he had left. 

If Boris Nikiforov had taught his son one thing, it was not to trust. Not to let anyone get too close. Because those that should love you...could sometimes cause you the most pain. 

Viktor should have expected it. Should have known better. But he had always been hopeful that his relationship with his father might turn around. That perhaps one day, his father might come to accept him for who he was. It was foolish, stupid. But Viktor hadn’t been able to help it. 

So when Viktor had approached his father’s doorstep that day, he hadn’t really known what to expect. But he had hoped….had prayed...for some absolution, some forgiveness. Some  _ acceptance. _

When the door had opened, Viktor should have seen the manic glint in his father’s eye. When Boris stepped aside to allow Viktor to enter, Viktor should have noticed the tension in his posture, the tightness of his jawline. When he had started to ask his son about skating, about  _ boys,  _ Viktor should have known. He should have  _ known.  _

Boris Nikiforov had reigned down on Viktor that day with fists and steel-toed boots and every makeshift weapon on which he could get his hands. Viktor had attempted to fight back, to protect himself. But Boris was so much bigger, so much stronger. He had easily overpowered Viktor, threatening to break his legs, to crush his skull. 

“You fucking piece of shit! You don’t deserve the Nikiforov name! You don’t deserve to call yourself my son! I should break your legs right now. Shatter those bones so you never skate again!” 

Viktor had cried and Boris had screamed at him, screamed at him to stop crying, to be a man. And, he wasn’t sure how he had been able to do it, but somehow...somehow...Viktor had been able to get out from under his father’s grasp and back to Yakov’s car. Thank god for Yakov. If Yakov hadn’t been just outside waiting for him...

Until Yuuri had come into his life, Viktor had been a victim of his father’s betrayal. He had kept everyone at arm’s length. And for the most part, he hadn’t gotten hurt. But Yuuri...Yuuri was a ray of sunshine that blocked out all the darkness. Yuuri was happiness and innocence. He was all of those things that Viktor had thought he had lost so long ago. Yuuri brought Viktor back from the dead. 

He had asked Viktor to just be himself. And before Yuuri, Viktor hadn’t been sure who that person was. But  _ with  _ Yuuri, it all made sense. Yuuri filled a void in Viktor, made him whole. Yuuri made him forget that he was unloveable, that he was a wreck, that he was dark and pathetic and miserable. 

Yuuri accepted all of those parts of him. Even the unsightly parts. 

Yuuri was life and love. And Viktor loved him more than he had ever loved anything in his entire life. 

Max could never accept that. Max  _ wanted  _ and Max  _ took.  _ He couldn’t stand the thought of Viktor being with anyone else. And Viktor knew it. He knew it, but had chosen to ignore it for the sake of preserving their friendship. The same part of Viktor that had longed to forgive his father, had also longed to forgive Max their own tumultuous relationship.

Max had never wanted the whole Viktor. He’d wanted to sift through all Viktor’s parts to remove the damaged ones and toss them away. He’d seen their relationship as this pretty picture...seen Viktor as a perfectly posed doll to place upon his shelf. When Viktor had been himself, when the damaged parts had reared their ugly heads, Max had lashed out, gotten defensive, had even used violence at times. And Max had cheated. More than once. 

When Viktor had ended their relationship, Max had spiralled out of control. 

When his open hand had slapped across the smooth surface of Viktor’s cheek, Viktor had decided enough was enough. He had told himself that he would never trust Max again. Never engage with Max again. Never again let Max in. 

Yet Max’s obsession with Viktor had never fully resolved itself. After their breakup, Viktor had received text messages from Max, threatening to kill himself, pleading for Viktor to take him back. There had been days when bouquets of flowers would appear at Viktor’s doorstep, followed by days when hate messages would show up anonymously taped to his door. Viktor had known that Max would often follow him home from the rink. He’d seen him do it many times. But he was thankful for that obsessive behavior the day that Boris Nikiforov had come back to finish the job he had started years ago.

The day that Max had saved Viktor’s life. 

From that day forward, Viktor had felt he owed Max a debt. He owed Max a part of himself. That part couldn’t be anything more than friendship. But he owed that friendship...he owed his life.  

But now...Max might have taken away the one truly beautiful, truly  _ good _ thing in Viktor’s life. 

In a way, Viktor knew what Max had done. He could imagine Max’s lips grinding down over his own, hard and violent. He could imagine Max’s hands raking over his body, fingernails scratching like claws over his skin. He couldn’t  _ remember _ . But the aftermath proved it. The pain. The blood. The fall. 

Viktor knew the fall was coming. When he leapt into the air and twisted his body for his quad flip, the pain that shot through him was enough to knock his form out of balance. His legs shot from under him. And his head smacked hard against the ice. 

That was the last thing he remembered before, for the second time in 24 hours, his world went black.

He didn’t dream. And for that, he thanked his lucky stars. He wasn’t sure what horrors would await him should he be allowed to delve too deeply in the recesses of his own mind.

When he awoke, Vikor found himself in what appeared to be a hospital room, sterile, with white walls, white beddings, white curtains. A light blue hospital gown had replaced his S _ now King  _ costume and it appeared that his face and body had been cleaned of glitter and blood. The back of his head ached. And so did the rest of his body. But his heart...his heart ached most of all. 

“Vitya? Are you awake?” Yakov was sitting by his bedside, watching him with concerned and hooded eyes. 

At the sight of Yakov sitting there and watching over him as if he was his own son, Viktor burst into tears. Embarrassed, he covered his face with his hands, but before he knew it, strong arms were enveloping him, and a comforting hand was stroking his back. “Shhh...Vitya. It’s ok. It will be ok.”

Hearing those words only made Viktor cry harder. He shook his head. It wouldn't be ok. It would never be ok again. He had betrayed Yuuri. He had lost the one person in this world that he loved more than he could describe. “Yuuri…” he choked out, wanting to tell Yakov everything, wanting Yakov to take away the pain. “Yuuri...is…”

“He’s here, Vitya. He just went to get himself a cup of coffee.”

Viktor stilled, his eyes widening as they studied the wizened lines of Yakov’s face. “What?” he whispered.

“He’s been here all day...It’s late Vitya. And you’ve been out for a while. You...gave us all...quite a scare.”

“Yuuri is...here?” Viktor’s mind was a mess, a churning, bubbling mess of confusion and denial. “Why...is he here?”

“I assume it’s because he loves you...or something ridiculous to that effect….” Yakov’s face softened. “We all do, Vitya.”

“But he...I…”

Yakov pulled away slightly then, his eyes narrowed and dark. “What happened last night, Vitya? Between you and Max? I need you to tell me. I need you to be honest with me.”

“I can’t...remember…” Viktor whispered. But the pain. The pain was still there. It was less potent. But still present. Nagging, resounding, consuming.

“Vitya…” Yakov’s voice was a deep growl. “I need to know what he did to you. Did Maxim Volkov hurt you?”

Viktor didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk about the possibilities, didn’t want to admit to himself what had happened. “I...don’t…”

“Stop protecting him, Viktor. You’ve always been so quick to forgive that boy. All the awful things he said to you...all the things he’s done…”

“I know what he’s done,” Viktor said firmly, his eyes locked into his coach’s. “But this time is different, Yakov. Because I can’t remember. All I remember from last night is going to his room, changing out of my costume, him making me a drink…” Viktor paused. The drink. Cherry and vodka. He had downed it to help his nerves. He remembered feeling unsteady on his feet. He remembered Max grabbing his wrists, forcing him down. He remembered the sound of fabric tearing. 

Tears again filled his eyes as he remembered Max’s mouth crashing over his own before he was no longer able to maintain consciousness. He put a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his own anguished sobs. And all at once, he felt dirty, unclean, violated. 

Yakov’s arms were around him again, holding him while he trembled and shook and cried. 

“He’s going to pay for this, Viktor,” Yakov said. “He may escape the judgement of the law. But he won’t escape  _ my  _ judgement.”

“What are you going to do?” Viktor looked up at Yakov with wide and fearful eyes. 

“He’s awake!” Viktor’s eyes immediately flashed toward the door of the hospital room to see Yuuri standing there, holding a steaming cup of coffee and dressed in a simple gray sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants. His glasses were perched over his nose and he was smiling. God, Viktor has been so worried that he might never see that gorgeous smile again. He felt he could start crying anew with the relief of it.

“Yuuri!” he gasped. And before he could react, Yuuri was racing towards him and pulling him into a deep embrace, holding Viktor’s head in his hands, up against his pounding heart. The coffee had been forgotten and abandoned on the table by Viktor’s bedside, so Yuuri could use both arms to envelope Viktor and hold him tight.

“You’re ok,” Yuuri was stroking his hair, laying a kiss onto the top of his head. And Viktor held onto him as if he might somehow evaporate into thin air and disappear. He would never let him go again. 

“You’re  _ here _ ,” Viktor echoed, nuzzling into Yuuri’s chest and taking in his scent. 

Yakov had backed away, giving them space, but after several long awkward moments of watching them embrace, he cleared his throat to remind them of his presence. “I’ll give you two a bit of time to...talk about things, shall I?”

Viktor nodded his head in thanks. “Thank you, Yakov.”

As he passed, Yakov laid a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Look out for him, will you? And if either of you need me...you know where I’ll be.”

Yuuri flushed, but nodded in response. Viktor noticed that there seemed to be some sort of unspoken agreement and shared connection between them. Perhaps the two men who loved him the most banding together to protect him? To make him feel loved? How was it possible that Viktor deserved them? 

When Yakov’s retreating back disappeared from view, Viktor’s eyes again met the soft brown hue of Yuuri’s. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many apologies he wanted to make. But instead, Yuuri spoke first, “I’m so sorry, Vitya.”

Viktor balked at his words, confusion etching itself all over his face. “Yuuri...what? You have  _ nothing  _ to be sorry for.”

“That’s not true.” Yuuri was shaking his head and tears had started to gather in the corner of those large chocolate eyes. “I should have given you the opportunity to speak...I should never have said those things…”

“You were angry,” Viktor implored. “You had every right to be…”

“But...I should have stayed and talked it out with you. I shouldn't have just left...shouldn't have allowed myself to believe…”

Viktor felt sick remembering what Yuuri had seen...those awful pictures that had been on Yuuri’s phone. “Yuuri, those pictures…”

“You were unconscious when they were taken, Viktor. Weren’t you?” Yuuri was looking at him, confused, hurt, devastated. And all Viktor could feel was shame. Shame for having been the one to make Yuuri feel those things.

“Yes...I...was.”

“He raped you, Viktor.” It was the first time Viktor had heard those words spoken aloud. He didn’t want to hear them. Didn’t want to accept them. It hadn’t happened. It wasn’t true. 

As if serving as a cruel and ironic reminder, a wave of pain shot through him, causing him to grit his teeth in agony. 

“Viktor?” Yuuri was studying him, eyes filled with concern. Viktor couldn’t take it anymore. The kindness, the love, the adoration still shining in Yuuri’s wide brown eyes. How could Viktor ever be worthy of this man?

“I’m sorry, My Yuuri…” Viktor’s head fell to his chest as tears dripped down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry I put you through all this. I hate that this is all because of me.”

“No!” Yuuri moved in and wrapped Viktor back up in his arms. “It isn’t because of you. It’s because of  _ Max.  _ He tricked us both, set a trap and we both fell into it. You’re  _ good _ , Vitya. You’re kind and you’re forgiving. This happened because Max took advantage of your nature. He took advantage of your goodness. That’s not on you. That’s on  _ him.” _

Viktor’s eyes were wide as they assessed Yuuri, observing him in all his splendor. “You’re good too, My Yuuri. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. I don’t know...if I’ll ever deserve you.”

“Stop,” Yuuri kissed Viktor’s forehead, holding both sides of his face in comforting and gentle hands. “I love you, Viktor. I love you so much.”

Viktor smiled them, despite his tears, despite the pain, despite his betrayal and fear. Because Yuuri  _ loved  _ him. The most beautiful, most kind, most loyal man in the entire world  _ loved  _ him. In spite of his flaws and his mistakes and his weaknesses, Yuuri loved him.

“I should have told you that so much sooner. I’ve wanted to say it...for a long time. I was afraid. I was afraid that I would mess this up, that I wasn’t really good enough for you...that you’d realize that...and that I’d lose you.” Yuuri’s eyes were filled with tears and with shaking hands, Viktor moved to brush those tears away.

“You’ll never lose me, Yuuri. As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

“Vitya…” Yuuri was smiling too, holding onto Viktor with strong and desperate arms. “I’ll always want you. I’ll always protect you. Nothing else matters but this.”

“I was a fool, Yuuri. I thought that...that I could trust Max. I thought that I  _ owed  _ him my friendship…”

Yuuri pulled away from him then, just enough so their eyes could meet. “You don’t owe him anything. Do you understand that, Vitya? You owe him  _ nothing.  _ No matter what he did in the past.”

“When he kissed me, Yuuri...I…didn’t want him to...I tried to...” he tried to explain, but Yuuri just shook his head.

“I know. I know. You don’t need to explain. Let’s move forward, ok? Let’s move past this and past Max.”

Viktor studied Yuuri’s face. The tired lines, the dark circles that didn’t make him any less adorable. “You want to move forward? With me?”

“Of course I do.” As he stroked Viktor’s hair with his left hand, Yuuri brought his right hand down to rest on Viktor’s where it lay on his lap. The gold of his ring shimmered despite the dim light of the hospital room.

“You didn’t take it off,” Viktor gasped, twining his fingers with Yuuri’s.

“I couldn’t...I never will.” Yuuri shook his head, a blush rising over his cheeks.

“Kiss me,” Viktor whispered, and Yuuri’s eyes met his own. Gingerly, hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Viktor’s mouth. Slowly, Viktor dared to deepen that kiss, parting Yuuri’s lips with his tongue, gently nibbling on his bottom lip in between their heated breaths. 

Yuuri eventually pulled away, his eyes searching Viktor’s face for any unease or discomfort. But everything was different with Yuuri. Viktor felt no fear, no risk of betrayal or hurt. With Yuuri, Viktor felt at home.

“Yuuri,” he spoke softly as he peered into Yuuri’s eyes. “Let’s go home. Let’s go home to Hasetsu. Let’s forget about Russia. Forget about everything. Let’s just go home. Please?”

Yuuri’s eyebrows rose in shock. “But what about skating? What about Yakov?”

“We can still skate. Maybe...you could be my coach, Yuuri?” 

“Viktor, you’re talking nonsense.”

“I’m not. I’ve never felt more at home than in Hasetsu. Never safer. I don’t want to be in Russia anymore, Yuuri. I don’t want to surround myself with the cruelty and the...memories…”

Yuuri brought his lips once more to Viktor’s forehead. “Let’s talk about it after we’ve both had some rest, ok? We’re both exhausted from competition…”

Viktor straightened immediately, his eyes suddenly huge.  _ How  _ had he forgotten? The competition! Yuuri had still competed! 

“Yuuri! Four Continents! What were the results? Did you place?”

Yuuri chuckled lightly. “Barely. My short program saved me. Yurio got the gold. J.J. got silver. I got the bronze.”

“Your short program was beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered. “And I bet Yurio loved getting the gold.” 

Yuuri shrugged. “He was happy to have beaten J.J.. But in the end, I don’t think any of us really performed our bests today.” 

“Don’t tell me...Yuri Plisetsky was worried about  _ me?”  _ Viktor balked, his mouth hanging open.

“He’ll never admit it. But...he was. We all were. None of us have ever...seen you fall, Viktor. Ever.” His tone, the soft worried look in his eyes. They reminded Viktor of what had happened, what had been done to him. The ultimate betrayal of his trust. He realized then...he never wanted to see Max again.

“I’ve fallen before,” he whispered and Yuuri shook his head.

“Not like that, Viktor.”

Viktor knew the truth of his words. He shook his head. “No. Not like that.”

“Are you still in pain, Viktor? Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to help?”

“Stay with me?” Viktor asked, sliding his body a bit to the right to make room for another person in his small hospital bed. “Please?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” As Yuuri laid down beside him, Viktor felt a sense of peace and security, something he hadn’t felt for weeks. He drifted off to sleep quickly, enveloped in the softness, the warmth, of Yuuri’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Viktor awoke to the sound of his phone vibrating. It rattled softly on the side table next to his bed. Next to him, Yuuri mumbled in his sleep, nuzzling closer into Viktor’s side. Viktor squirmed slightly, attempting to reach his phone without disturbing the sleeping beauty beside him. 

As he pulled his phone into eyeshot, his heart stilled in his chest. He had three missed calls all from ‘Max Volkov.’ With his heart in his throat, he put the phone against his ear to listen to the voicemails Max had left him.

“Viktor. It’s Max. Call me.” The first message was clipped, short. As if Max was in a hurry. But the second made Viktor feel sick to his stomach. 

“Viktor, what the  _ fuck?  _ What did you tell Yakov? You have no idea what you’ve done. This is so like you. So like you. I need you to call me. Now. We need to get this settled. You need to tell Yakov  _ the truth.  _ Do you understand? Call me.”

The final voicemail made Viktor feel nauseous, anxious and weak. Max was screaming into the phone, his voice venomous and deadly, filled with hate. “Viktor, you pathetic piece of shit. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Call Yakov and tell him the truth! Do you hear me? You were  _ begging  _ for it last night. You  _ wanted  _ it. This is my  _ career _ , Viktor. You’re going to regret this. Do you understand me? If you don’t  _ fix  _ this, you will  _ regret  _ it. You think that fucking Japanese bitch is going to be able to protect you? He can’t even protect himself! Goddammit, Viktor. Call me back. Call me back!”

Viktor was shaking as the phone fell from his ear to land on the floor with a loud crash. Yuuri stirred at the side, his eyes blinking awake and taking in Viktor’s trembling form, his pale face. 

“Viktor?” He sat up, studying Viktor closely, with a look of concern on his face. “Viktor, what’s wrong?”

“Max…” Viktor whispered. “He...called me.”

Rage took the place of concern on Yuuri’s face. Viktor had never seen him look so angry. “What did he say?”

“He said...I need to tell Yakov that I wanted it...or I’ll regret it.”

“No,” Yuuri sat up fully and slipped off the bed. “No. That’s unacceptable.” He was striding away from the bed with an expression of fervent determination, and Viktor grasped onto the bed rails in desperation. 

“Where are you going? Yuuri! Don’t leave...please!” He was sure the distress was evident in the thinness of his voice, in the way his hands reached out to Yuuri was he pulled away. 

Yuuri froze, turning back to look at Viktor with a softness in his eyes. “Vitya...I’m just going to talk to Yakov. I need to see what’s going on.”

Viktor felt panic rising to his throat. Now that Yuuri was here...after he had thought he had lost him forever...Viktor couldn’t stand the thought of him being out of sight. “Please, don’t go,” he choked. 

Yuuri’s face registered tenderness and understanding as he nodded. “Ok,” he moved back toward Viktor, putting a hand on his cheek. “Ok. I’ll stay. I’ll send Yakov a text. See if he can come and tell us what’s going on.”

Viktor nodded, thankful, so thankful for this man. 

As Yuuri settled back down beside Viktor, his phone in hand, Viktor clung onto him, slinging his arms over Yuuri’s middle and laying his head on Yuuri’s side. After sending several texts, Yuuri allowed his phone to fall to the bed. He sighed heavily as he wrapped an arm around Viktor in a protective gesture. 

“I can’t believe he had the guts to actually call you...after what he did. If he calls again, I’ll answer.” There was a tight strain in Yuuri’s voice. Viktor could tell he was trying to retain his calm, but his anger was evident. 

“Yuuri, it’s ok,” Viktor whispered but Yuuri shook his head. 

“It’s absolutely  _ not  _ ok, Viktor.If he ever tries to hurt you again...I’ll...I’ll…” His hands were balling into fists. 

Luckily at that moment, they were interrupted but Yakov’s soft knocks on the door of the hospital room. “Vitya? Katsuki?”

“Come in,” Yuuri sat up, pulling out of Viktor’s arms as Yakov entered.

“What’s this about Max  _ calling  _ Vitya?” The expression on Yakov’s face mirrored the rage that Viktor had observed etched into Yuuri’s features. 

Viktor nodded hesitantly. 

Yakov folded his arms over his chest. “ _ That  _ will not be happening again.”

“Did you...speak with him?” Viktor’s voice shook.

Yakov’s eyes narrowed and his features darkened sharply. “He’s finished. And he’ll stay away from you, Vitya, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Finished?” Viktor felt sick. 

“Lilia has removed him from the ballet. He won’t ever dance in St. Petersburg again. Or anywhere in Russia, for that matter.”

Viktor swallowed hard. “Isn’t that a bit...extreme?”

Yuuri balked at his side. “What he did to you was  _ extreme,  _ Viktor. Extreme measures are necessary.”

“I will destroy him if he comes near you, Vitya.” Yakov’s voice was low as he agreed with Yuuri. “I’ll burn his livelihood to the ground. He knows I’m capable of it.”

Viktor couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in his stomach. “Max is like a wild animal...when he’s backed into a corner, he’ll lash out. He becomes more dangerous when he’s threatened.”

“Then he’ll end himself. Max is an adult. He’s responsible for his own actions. And with those actions, the consequences. I may not be able to put Max behind bars, but I will make his life a living hell...if he so chooses.” Viktor didn’t doubt the reach of Yakov’s arms, the friends he had in...low places. He was well connected. And well protected. 

“You can’t be there to protect me at all times, Yakov,” Viktor said coldly.

“I can, actually,” Yakov smirked. “Where’s your phone?”

Viktor’s eyebrows raised as Yuuri bent over and picked up Viktor’s phone from where it had fallen to the floor. He handed it to Yakov with a thin smile that he then directed at Viktor. 

“I’ve installed a panic button on your phone,” Yakov said, touching the screen of Viktor’s phone with his finger. At the bottom, next to the “Emergency Contacts” button, was another button labelled “Panic.” 

“Hit it and hold it down for 5 seconds,” Yakov said. “It will automatically send me a text message alerting me to call you. If you don’t answer when I call, I’ll send the police to your location.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “You did this all when I was asleep?”

Yakov nodded. “I did. With Yuuri’s assistance.”

As Viktor’s eyes fell on Yuuri, his fiance’s face lit bright red. “I hope you don’t feel like we invaded your privacy, Viktor…”

Viktor shook his head. “No...thank you both. I...appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always,”Yuuri smiled shyly.

“Always,” Yakov agreed.

 

* * *

 

Yakov re-arranged their flights to accommodate a later departure and more time for Viktor to recuperate in the hospital before leaving Moscow. But by the time Viktor was bundled up and being bustled to the airport, he was ready to be home, to get away from the miserable city and the haunting memories that lingered there. 

Max hadn’t contacted him again after those voicemails. They hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. Viktor couldn’t have imagined how relieved that absence would make him feel. Perhaps, whether he had known it or not, Max’s presence had had a negative effect on his mental health. Without Max around, the world seemed a little brighter, a little less cruel. Even his father’s impending release seemed a little less threatening, a little less daunting. 

With Yuuri’s hand in his, Viktor was able to nap in his seat in first-class, dozing off to dream about the new life that awaited them in Hasetsu. 

They hadn’t talked about it any further. But to Viktor, it made perfect sense. Why stay in Russia where Boris Nikiforov would be wandering the streets as a constant threat? Where homophobia was like a plague consuming and infecting the people around them. And where Max existed...somewhere within like a looming presence and reminder of betrayal and deception and lies? 

Makkachin was happier in Hasetsu. Viktor and Yuuri were happier in Hasetsu. They had everything they needed to train and skate and  _ live _ . They had a supportive family. And they would have each other. For Viktor, that was more than enough. 

When they arrived back to St. Petersburg, it was to an onslaught of frenzied reporters and flashing cameras. People screaming out to Viktor, asking about his health, his standing with the Russian Skating Federation. He felt dizzy and disoriented, though Yuuri was by his side, holding his hand and doing his best to shield him from the fray of bodies throwing themselves at him. 

“Viktor is not taking questions at the moment. Please respect his privacy.” Yuuri’s voice was harried and irritable as he used his small form to push through the throng towards Viktor’s apartment building. Viktor had never loved Yuuri more than he did in that moment, seeing his protective nature shining through. 

This time, when they arrived on the top floor, there was no vandalism, nor any unkind words, to greet them. Viktor was relieved as he stepped inside the apartment, as he breathed in the scent of the building that had been home for over 8 years. But as he looked around at the furniture and the decor, he realized...these things were not what made it home.  _ Yuuri  _ made it home. Yuuri and Makkachin. The life they had begun building together. Home could be anywhere. As long as they were together. 

“How are you doing, Vitya?” Yuuri asked as he slipped Viktor’s coat from his shoulders and moved to hang it in the entry closet. 

“I’m good, My Yuuri,” he said gently. “I’m better. Much better.”

Yuuri smiled at him, genuine relief playing over his handsome face. “I’m glad,” he said, holding out a hand to Viktor, who gladly took it in his own. “But you know...you don’t have to be.  _ Good _ , I mean. You can take as much time as you need to heal.”

Viktor nodded in response, though his heart panged looking at Yuuri. He was right. Viktor knew he shouldn’t rush his healing. But he so badly wanted to be done with it. With the anger and the betrayal and the fear. He wanted to push it all away, sweep it under the rug, forget it had ever happened. Perhaps that was why he so longed to go back to Hasetsu. 

“Thank you, Yuuri,” he whispered, twining his fingers through Yuuri’s. “I just want things to...go back to normal.”

“They will,” Yuuri said, moving closer and wrapping his arms around Viktor’s waist. He laid his head on Viktor’s shoulder, holding onto him tightly, as if he never wanted to let go. “We just have to give it time. But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Viktor leaned down to press a kiss to Yuuri’s scalp. “I love you, Yuuri.” It felt so good to say those words without inhibition, to say them just because they were true. He felt Yuuri’s lips at his neck, heard the soft whisper of Yuuri’s voice in his ear. 

“I love you, Vitya.” Viktor could almost feel the blush of Yuuri’s pink cheeks through the soft gray sweater he was wearing. God, could this man be any more adorable?

As he pulled away, Yuuri smiled up at Viktor without releasing his hand. “Yakov said he would pick Makkachin up for us from the boarding facility. Do you want to take a nap for a little bit?” 

Viktor’s head  _ was  _ beginning to hurt again. And though the pain between his legs had faded, his back was still sore and uncomfortable. The thought of falling into bed...their bed, together...sounded closer to heaven than Viktor had been in weeks.

“Only if you’ll come with me,” he said, slipping a hand under Yuuri’s chin. Yuuri nodded, though his cheeks were tinted a bright pink.

“Of course, Vitya.” 

They wandered into the bedroom hand-in-hand with Viktor leading the way. As he slipped out of his clothes and down to his underwear, he could feel Yuuri’s eyes watching him. As Viktor turned his eyes up to meet Yuuri’s, Yuuri blushed fiercely and looked away as if caught doing something immoral or depraved.

“Yuuri…?” Viktor questioned delicately but Yuuri still would not meet his eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, Viktor approached his fiance, slipping his arms around Yuuri’s middle. “Yuuri...it’s ok to look at me…”

“I know,” Yuuri said softly. “I just...don’t want you to feel like I’m...lusting over you…” He shook his head as if the words sounded silly to him. Viktor grinned despite himself. They  _ did  _ sound silly. 

“Yuuri…” Viktor placed a hand on Yuuri’s cheek to bring thos soft chocolate eyes to meet his own. “I  _ want _ you to lust over me. And I want you to look at me. What happened doesn’t change the way I want you...the way I desire you. Nor, I hope, will it change the way you desire me... ”

“Of course not. I just...don’t want you to feel pressured to...have sex with me...or be physical with me. Not until you’re ready...” Viktor could tell that Yuuri was uncomfortable saying his piece, but to Viktor,  it was adorable and charming and completely loveable. 

“Yuuri...you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Viktor pulled Yuuri into an embrace. “Will you just...hold me for a bit?”

Yuuri nodded. “I’d like that.”

As Viktor turned to climb in bed, he flashed a coy smile at his fiance. “And take your clothes off, hmm? I want to feel your skin against me.”

There was no mistaking the flush of those cheeks as a wide-eyed Yuuri began peeling the clothes from his body. As Yuuri crawled into bed, the warmth radiating from his mostly nude form enveloped Viktor completely, and he snuggled deeply into those arms. Before he knew it, Viktor was fast asleep, wrapped up in Yuuri. Wrapped up in peace. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but a sharp knocking at the front door had Yuuri stirring and pressing a kiss to Viktor’s forehead. 

“That’s Yakov,” he whispered, slipping out of bed and pulling his sweatpants back on. “I’ll go let him in. Do you want some coffee?”

Viktor smirked sleepily. “I’ll get it. I want to see my Makka!”

As Yuuri headed out to get the door, Viktor stretched and reached for his own sweatpants that had been discarded on the floor. As he pulled them back on, he could hear Yuuri’s voice, raised from down the hall. And his heart began to race. 

“Get out of here! Stop! You’re not welcome here!”

Viktor bolted to Yuuri’s defense before stopping dead in his tracks, standing frozen in the hallway. “Max…” his voice was a thin and feeble thing as it escaped from his lips. 

Maxim Volkov was standing in their doorway, looming over Yuuri as he attempted to block the entrance to their living room. 

“Viktor. I need to speak with you. Get the fuck out of the way, Katsuki,” he growled. In a quick, abrupt movement, he slammed his elbow into Yuuri’s face, knocking him back and out of the way as blood spurted from Yuuri’s nose. Viktor gasped and made to move to where Yuuri was gasping on the ground,  but Max’s entrance across the threshold of their home stopped him in his tracks. 

“You need to leave,” Viktor attempted to keep his tone level and cool, but he couldn’t help the tremor that prevailed. 

“I just want you to listen. We’re friends, aren’t we? Or did you forget what I did for you?” Max was approaching, his voice laced with desperation and madness. His green eyes were wild and manic. “Viktor, you have to talk to Yakov. You  _ have  _ to. Do you know what he’s done?”

“Max, please. I need you to leave.” Viktor was stumbling backwards, scrambling to get away from him. Where was his phone? Where was his phone? He needed his phone. He needed to get to the panic button...

But Max was on him then, pushing him up against the wall, putting both of his hands on either side of Viktor’s face. “Look at me. Viktor, look at me. Please. You know me. You know I would never hurt you on purpose.  Viktor...listen. Listen.” His hands were commanding and powerful as they grasped Viktor’s chin tightly and forced their eyes to meet. “Why are you acting like this? Like this time was any different than any of the other times we’ve fucked?”

“Get your hands off him.” Behind them, Yuuri had risen to his feet with his hands balled into fists. Blood was trickling from his nose and down his chin, but the look on his face was fearsome, impassioned and determined. 

Max smirked and turned to meet Yuuri’s angry stare. “Or what,  _ Little  _ Yuuri? What are you going to do about it?”

“Leave or I’ll call the police!”

Max turned back to look at Viktor, his eyes narrowed. “Is that what you want,  _ Vitya _ ? You want your little boyfriend to call the police on me? Hmm? You think you need the police to protect you from me? Is that where we are now? Is that what our relationship has come to? You’re scared of me?” 

He allowed his head to fall as a scoff of mirth escaped his lips. Viktor quivered under his grasp, struggling to break free. But then Max’s eyes were back, locked into his own as Max’s grip tightened on Viktor’s face, burning where his fingernails were digging into Viktor’s skin. “You honestly let this pathetic little  _ boy  _ convince you to be afraid of me? After everything we’ve gone through? He’s turned you against me! Are you that weak, Viktor?”

“Max...please. Go,” Viktor choked out, desperate, terrified. “You can’t...you can’t be here. You’re not welcome here anymore…”

“Yakov is on his way!” Yuuri bellowed. “If he see you here...you know what he’ll do!”

Max laughed and then finally released his grip on Viktor, putting his arms in the air in surrender. He turned back to Yuuri as Viktor slumped against the wall, his heart rattling inside his ribcage. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Ok? You happy now? I’ll go...but we’re not finished here. Far from it.” Slowly, Max moved toward Yuuri, reaching out to pat his cheek condescendingly. In defiance, Yuuri pulled away with a snarl. “You’re going to regret this. What you’ve done to me. Both of you.”

As he moved to the front door, Max smirked with his fingers on the handle. “See you soon.”

The door slammed behind him on his way out and Viktor fell to the floor, sobs wracking his body. He was trembling all over...unable to contain the terror...the relief...the shame. It all came rushing back to him in that moment. He felt nauseous. He could still feel Max’s tight grip on his face, could still see that desperate and mad look in Max’s eyes. 

_ We’re not finished here. Far from it. You’re going to regret this. _

Yuuri was rushing to his side, enveloping him in his arms, holding him, rocking him, whispering comfort into his ears. But Viktor couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop crying. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. I’m so sorry!” This was all his fault. None of this would have happened if not for him. If not for Viktor’s foolishness and naivety. 

Yuuri’s sweet face was bleeding. And it was all because of him. 

It was all because of him.

_ What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? _

  
  


* * *

 

Max’s hands were shaking where he had them stashed inside his pockets. His long dark hair was blowing about chaotically in the chilled St. Petersburg air as he stalked from Viktor’s apartment with rage flowing through his veins like adrenaline. He couldn’t tamp down the anger any longer. He was done playing nice. He had had enough.

If  _ he  _ couldn’t have Viktor...fine. No one else would either. Especially not Katsuki Yuuri. 

Max pulled his phone from his pocket and sent out a quick text message, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen.

_ I’m done protecting him. He’s all yours.  _

Almost immediately, the reply came through. 

_ Does he suspect? _

Max smirked, typing his response. 

_ He has no idea.  _

_ When? _

Max paused, considering the possibilities, thinking about their  _ altercation,  _ Yakov’s warnings. 

_ Not yet.  _

_ When?  _ The response was instantaneous, the same word repeated. Max could almost hear the demanding tone indicated by that text. 

_ Soon. Let him think he’s safe. We need to lay low for a while.  _

_ A while? _

_ A few weeks. After Worlds.  _

After a few minutes, the response came in, sending a chill down Max’s spine. 

_ Don’t fuck this up, Volkov. _

Max gripped his phone tight, so tight he thought it might crumble in his hands. 

_ Not this time. Not ever again.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUNNNN! Who is Max talking to? What is his plan? 
> 
> The boys are back together! They're soulmates, nothing can tear them apart. 
> 
> Like I said, the next two chapters are the end - Chapter 9 is really the summation of the story so it make take a bit longer to get it up.   
> Please let me know what you think! Love you all!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I got this done sooner than I thought!
> 
> Happy Chapter 9 day!! 
> 
> I just want to say, I love you all so much for your sweet comments and for following this story. It's been in my brain, just rolling around in there for a lonnnng time. Getting it out has been a rush and I've so enjoyed sharing it!
> 
> Enjoy!

_What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?_

Yakov arrived with Makkachin an hour or so after Max had come and gone. By that time, Viktor had cleaned the blood from Yuuri’s face and determined that his nose was (thankfully) not broken. They were both still shaken, but Yuuri, more than Viktor had ever seen him, seemed unnerved by the entire ordeal. More than that. He was _angry_.  

“I should have protected you,” he had whispered, as Viktor had blotted away the blood that had dried on his upper lip. “He should never have been able to get that close to you.”

Viktor had shaken his head. “You did everything you could, Yuuri.”

But Yuuri’s doubt had persisted, even after Yakov’s arrival with Makkachin in tow. Even after Yakov had sworn up and down that Max was _finished._

“That boy has no idea what he’s done!” Yakov bellowed. “He will regret that he ever stepped foot in this apartment.”

But despite Yakov’s blustering and barking, Max had completely disappeared. Over the next few days, there was no contact from Max, no sign or trace of him. His dance studio sat deserted and empty, even as it was under constant surveillance by Yakov’s “contacts.” Max, it seemed, had vanished without a trace.

Still, Viktor’s heart was filled with discontent and apprehension. It was quiet. Too quiet. There were too many hidden enemies seeking to do them harm. So, only a few days after Max had shown up at their apartment, Viktor brought up Hasetsu again. This time, more seriously.

Yuuri himself had seemed to retreat inwards, quiet and always in his own head. Those gears were always turning, always processing, it seemed. Viktor knew Yuuri was blaming himself for allowing Max to get into their apartment. But Viktor wouldn’t allow it. No more than Yuuri had allowed Viktor to blame himself for what Max had done to _him._ He wouldn’t allow Yuuri to take the blame.

As Yuuri busied himself with cutting some carrots for their dinner, Viktor slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist. He buried his face in the thick black softness of Yuuri’s hair and breathed in the scent that was entirely Yuuri’s alone. He could feel his fiance tense beneath him, before finally relaxing into his arms.

“Yuuri, my darling,” Viktor purred. “I’ve been thinking…”

Yuuri chuckled lightly, resuming his repetitive chopping motion. “About?”

“About _home_...About our home.”

Yuuri paused, turning his face slightly so he could see Viktor’s eyes. “And?”

“And...we never really talked about going back to Hasetsu...about making Hasetsu our home. And I...I think that’s what I want. I think that deep down, that’s what you want too.”

Yuuri sighed, setting the knife down and turning his body to face Viktor’s. He nodded, but seemed unable to meet Viktor’s eyes. “It...is what I want. I miss Hasetsu. And I always thought we would end up there eventually, but…” He paused, shaking his head so his shaggy hair swayed around his ears. “Going now...leaving St. Petersburg because of everything that’s happened...does it feel like we’re _fleeing_? Giving up? Letting Max...win?”

Viktor smiled as he leaned in to kiss Yuuri’s cheek. “Oh, My Yuuri. Don’t think of it that way. I just want us to be safe. I want us both to feel safe...surrounded by love and family...rather than cold and harshness and cruelty. There are only bad memories for me here. Bad memories and regrets.”

“What about Yakov? What about skating?” Yuuri’s brown eyes were huge and imploring, almost desperate with the thought of Viktor leaving the ice.

Viktor felt some guilt looking into those eyes. He hadn’t discussed skating with Yuuri...since his fall, since the Federation’s threats. Did he even _want_ to skate anymore? There were so many politics, so much cruelty and injustice...was it worth it to continue? “Yuuri...I might not even be _able_ to skate. The Federation of Russia might not let me…”

“Yakov will vouch for you. He’ll make them see reason…!”

“Yuuri…” Viktor placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “What if...what if I don’t want to skate anymore?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” His mouth fell open in shock. “Viktor...why?”

“I’m not sure…” Viktor said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m just not sure what I want right now. But I _do_ know that I want you. I want to be with you. I want to marry you. And I want to live with you without worry, without fear, without threat. I want to go back to Hasetsu. I want to go back there and heal...to be away from all of this. To...marry you.”

Yuuri blushed fiercely. “Viktor…”

Viktor moved in closer, wrapping a hand around the back of Yuuri’s neck and meeting his eyes with intensity. “Yuuri...will you...marry me?”

“Viktor...I thought we’d already established that - ?” Yuuri squeaked.

“But I never officially asked. I want to marry you. I want you to be my husband. Will you marry me?”

The smile that lit Yuuri’s face was one of the most breathtaking Viktor had ever seen him wear. “Of course, I will,” he whispered, before Viktor enveloped him in a deep and lingering kiss. As they pulled away, tears lined Yuuri’s s soft brown eyes. “But don’t think this means that you can just give up on skating, Vitya. I won’t let you do that. As your husband...I won’t.”

Viktor smiled, pressing his forehead against Yuuri’s and closing his eyes in contentment. “I would expect nothing less from my _husband._ You’ve always brought out the best in me, My Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

Yakov, surprisingly, did not disagree with their decision to return to Hasetsu. They had planned a dinner to break the news to him, imagining it to go less than smoothly. But it seemed, that Yakov had already been thinking along similar lines.

“Given the circumstances, I believe that’s wise,” he said after taking a long gulp of the wine that had been set in front of him. “We still haven’t been able to locate Max. He hasn’t shown up at his apartment, nor at his dance studio in over a week.”

“You have no idea where he might be?” Yuuri asked with wide, unreadable eyes.

Yakov shook his head. “He’s disappeared. Even Lilia has been unable to contact him.”

Viktor felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. Lilia had always been like a mother to Max. Growing up, Max had experienced a similar reaction to his chosen profession as Viktor had. He’d been forced to grow up quickly...and Lilia had done whatever she could to assist him in making a life for himself.

It was Viktor’s fault that Max no longer had that lifeline, that connection.

“Viktor…” Yakov said his name, breaking him from his silent contemplations. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from...Boris?”

A chill ran down Viktor’s spine at that name. He shook his head, his throat suddenly tight.

“He was released a few days ago,” Yakov said lowly. “I’ve been keeping tabs on his whereabouts but he’s been laying low.”

“Does he know where we are?” Yuuri asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“We’re not sure,” Yakov said. “Which is why...I think that moving back to Hasetsu is the best decision for you both. For the time being.”

“Do you know anything more about Viktor’s standings? For Worlds?” Yuuri blurted out and Viktor flushed. They hadn’t discussed his skating career further after that night, but he should have known that Yuuri would not be so easily swayed.

Yakov nodded. “I’ve spoken with the Federation. Given your performance at Nationals, and your standing with the Federation, they are willing to send you to Worlds to represent Russia. If that’s what you want, Vitya, the Federation will stand behind you.”

Viktor blanched, slumping down into his chair. “I...I’ll think about it,” he said and Yuuri scowled beside him, folding his arms over his chest. Yuuri would forgive him, whatever his decision, Viktor knew. But he hated to disappoint him. Hated to disappoint Yakov.

“How is your head?” Yakov asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Better,” Viktor said.

“And...everything else?”  It wasn’t like Yakov to pry. But parental concern was etched all over his face, and seeing it caused a warmth to spread through Viktor’s heart. Yakov was a good father. A good man.

Viktor met his eyes. “Better.”

Yakov nodded. “Good.”

They said nothing more about it, but Viktor felt deeply touched by his concern and his support. There was more love in this room than he would find in two lifetimes, so he allowed himself to bask in it and be truly comforted by it, to absorb it like much needed oxygen for his soul.

 

* * *

 

They left for Hasetsu two days later, toting Makkachin along with them. They had packed only the essentials, though for Vitkor, doing so was a nightmare, a daunting and unthinkable task. He had fretted and pined over all of his clothing, swooned and cried over pictures and decorations. But with Yuuri’s help, he had been able to let go, to breathe, to keep perspective.

Their plan was to stay in Hasetsu the month leading up to Worlds, to find suitable housing and make the final move after the competition had ended. They would have to go back to Russia at that point, to pack and ship the rest of their things...it was unfortunate, but Viktor wanted to be out of Russia as soon as possible. So it was a necessary plan.

Viktor still had not decided whether or not he would skate at Worlds, but as Russia disappeared from view, his head slowly became clearer and less bogged down with the fog of dread and regret.

Hasetsu was a safe place. An unreachable, untouchable place. No one could hurt them there. No one. Not Maxim Volkov. Not Boris Nikiforov. No one. Hasetsu was an oasis. Hasetsu was home.

Their homecoming was filled with tears and drinks and merriment and the face of all their loved ones, gathered together in the Katsuki home. Bowls of katsudon were passed around with sake and plum wine, and before long, Viktor’s cheeks were ruddy with drink and sore from smiling. And looking over at the brilliantly happy face of his fiance brought tears of joy to his eyes. There was nothing better than this feeling. Than being loved and welcomed and accepted.

God, why hadn’t he done this so much sooner?

The next morning, Yuuri was up before him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before heading out into the kitchen to start assisting his mother in making breakfast. Viktor could smell the eggs cooking as he rose from the bed and slipped into a t-shirt and sweatpants to traipse down the stairs to the kitchen.

As he approached, Yuuri sat a plate of eggs down in front of Viktor with a smile on his face. That smile told Viktor everything he needed to know. This decision had been the right one. For both of them. They were both happy here. They were both safe here.

Two days following their arrival in Hasetsu, Yuuri asked Viktor to accompany him to the rink to train for Worlds. Yuuri had every intention of competing, and his high scores had qualified him to do so. Viktor, as his coach, happily obliged his request. But as they stepped inside the rink, Viktor began to feel queasy and unsteady on his feet. He remembered that fall, how his legs had failed him. He remembered the sound his skull had made as it cracked against the ice before his world had gone black.

“Vitya?” Yuuri questioned gently, never letting go of Viktor’s hand. “Are you ok?”

Viktor nodded, pushing past the emotions, past the memories. He settled down against the rink as Yuuri stepped into his skates and began to lace them up. Once he was finished, Yuuri reached into his bag and handed Viktor a blank CD. “Vitya, will you play the first track for me? Once I’m on the ice?”

“Of course,” Viktor replied, kissing Yuuri’s nose before heading over to the CD player and playing the disc inside.

As Yuuri took his place in the middle of the ice, Viktor hit play, expecting to hear the vibrant and sensual music of _Eros_ filling the rink. But the music that began to play was something else entirely.

_Sento una voce che piange lontano_

_Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?_

Viktor’s mouth fell open as he watched the man he loved begin to skate the program that had started their entire journey together... _his_ program. Yuuri was the picture of poise and grace as he performed every jump and quad with ease. As he spun on the ice, he met Viktor’s eyes, compelling him through his performance. _Stay close to me, Vitya. Don’t go away._

_Stammi vicino, non te ne andare_

_Ho paura di perderti_

Viktor’s legs compelled him forward, moving him closer to the edge of the rink, so absorbed as he was by Yuuri’s intensity, his passion, the purity of his performance.

_Partiamo insieme_

_Ora sono pronto_

When Yuuri pulled into the ending pose of his performance, Viktor’s eyes were filled with tears. He was gripping the railing of the rink with both hands, rooted to the spot, entranced and completely in love. Yuuri’s performance, like his heart, was so beautiful.

“What did you think?” Yuuri asked, soft brown eyes meeting Viktor's. “Will you skate it with me, Viktor? Will you skate _Aria_ with me?”

Despite the trepidation and anxiety of the memories that plagued his mind, Viktor couldn’t help but nod. Who was he to deny this man? Who was he to say no? “Yes. Of course I will.”

Slipping on his skates was like answering a calling. Yuuri had sneakily stashed Viktor’s own skates inside his practice bag...just in case. And when Viktor stepped onto the ice, all his anxiety seemed to melt away. The ice was home. Being with Yuuri on the ice...was like fulfilling his life’s purpose.

Skating _Aria_ with Yuuri...was a reminder of all of the things that had brought them together. It was a reminder of the first time they had danced together at the Sochi banquet...when Yuuri had first taken Viktor’s breath away. It was a reminder of the first time that Viktor had seen Yuuri skate _Aria_ , and taken it as a message. _Be my coach, Viktor. Come find me. Stay close to me._

It was a reminder of his first day in Hasetsu, being completely consumed by the peace and tranquility of this place. It was a reminder of all the things that he loved about Yuuri...his compassion, his dedication, his kindness, his playfulness, his vulnerability. It was a reminder that, in spite of all his flaws, Viktor was completely known and completely loved by this man.

“I want to skate with you forever, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered as they finished their duet, wrapped in each other’s arms.

And Viktor decided at that moment...that he would skate in the World Championships at Yuuri’s side. Because on the ice with Yuuri...was where he belonged. Where he had always belonged.

 

* * *

 

Their hunt for the perfect home began almost immediately after their arrival in Hasetsu. Their combined income and skating sponsorships, as well as each of their own savings would provide an ample amount for a down-payment on something nice, something similar to that which they had had in St. Petersburg.

By the end of one particularly long day of perusing different properties with their hired realtor, Viktor could see Yuuri’s exhaustion playing evident over his face. But home-shopping with his future husband had Viktor’s blood flowing and his libido pumping in a way it hadn’t since...before everything that had happened.

And when they stepped foot inside one particularly simple and quaint _sukiya_ style home, Viktor knew they had found it. What they had been looking for.  It reminded him of Yu-Topia Katsuki, with its shoji style doorways and well-lit, wide open spaces.The grounds were plush and green. It was a perfect piece of paradise, close enough to home to be a comfort and yet just far enough away to give them their own peace and privacy.

Viktor could see from the wide-eyed look on Yuuri’s face that he could see it too.

They had found it. They had found the start of their life together - the home that was entirely theirs.

By the time they arrived back at Yu-Topia and fumbled into Yuuri’s childhood bedroom, they could barely keep their hands off each other.

It had been since before the attack, since before Max. They hadn’t had sex since that night in Vienna. It had been weeks. Since Four Continents and the events that had transpired, Yuuri had seemed almost afraid to ask...afraid that touching too much, too vigorously, might cause Viktor to break. As though Viktor was made of glass.

Even now, while the arousal and adrenaline sped through their veins, Yuuri’s touches were light, controlled, almost hesitant. And though Viktor was demanding and desperate, Yuuri seemed restrained, keeping him at arm’s length.

“Yuuri...touch me,” Viktor whimpered.

“I _am_ touching you, Vitya,” Yuuri purred into Viktor’s neck, sending a wave of goosebumps down his spine.

“Not the way I want to be touched,” Viktor grasped tightly onto Yuuri’s hips. “I want to feel you, Yuuri. I’m not made of glass.”

Yuuri paused, withdrawing slightly to look into Viktor’s eyes. They were sprawled on the bed, with Viktor laying flat on his back and Yuuri between his legs. Worry creased the space between Yuuri’s eyebrows as he studied Viktor’s face. “Viktor...I don’t want to rush you...I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

“I’m ready, Yuuri. I want to be with you. I love you. We can’t have this awful thing that happened hanging between us forever. I don’t want you to hold out, to avoid touching me...to treat me differently. I still desire you. And right now, I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”

Yuuri flushed, the bright pink spreading from his cheeks and down the exposed skin of his chest. “I want you too,” he whispered. He leaned down to kiss Viktor’s parted lips, and the feeling of his chest pressing against Viktor’s shot sparks of hot electric current through Viktor’s entire body.

“I want...I want to feel you inside of me,” Viktor said softly, knowing those words would set Yuuri on edge. But he wanted it. He wanted to feel that closeness, that vulnerability with someone he loved, someone he knew would never hurt him.

“Viktor…” As Viktor had expected, Yuuri hesitated. The last time Viktor has been touched in that way, he had been torn, hurt, violated. But this time would be different.

“Please, Yuuri…” Viktor didn’t want to beg. But he would. He craved that touch, needed it like oxygen. There was a part of him that suspected he needed it to fully heal. “I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you. I _need_ this. Please.”

Yuuri’s eyes were soft and gentle. Viktor knew he understood. His next kiss was harder, more forceful, more passionate. “Ok,” His voice was hoarse, strained, but filled with lust. “Ok.”

Their movements became chaotic and desperate as they pulled at each other’s clothing, eventually entangled naked in each other’s arms. It was the first time in weeks that Viktor had been completely exposed to Yuuri, completely vulnerable. And the feel of Yuuri’s achingly hard cock pressed against his thigh made him catch his breath. He wanted this. He wanted it so bad, it hurt.

Yuuri’s hands trembled as he reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer to retrieve a bottle of lube. His sweet and imploring eyes met Viktor’s with a questioning look. “Is this ok, Vitya?”

Viktor almost couldn’t breathe. His throat was thick with desire as he choked out, “Yes. God please. Yes.”

Yuuri poured the thick clear liquid into the palm of his hand, seemingly nervous, but determined. As he leaned back down to Viktor, he pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he said gently. “Please stop me if it doesn’t...feel good. Ok? Or if...if it triggers anything.”

Viktor had to stop to appreciate the beauty of this man, to really absorb his kindness, his devotion, his love and compassion. “Ok,” he whispered in response. “But I want this, Yuuri. I want you.”

When Yuuri’s lube soaked finger entered him, Viktor gasped, seeing stars overlaid upon reality. His knees felt weak as he pushed down hard on that digit, taking Yuuri inside him as far as his finger would go.

“More,” he moaned. “Please Yuuri.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Not yet, Vitya. You need to trust me. Let me take care of you.”

Viktor knew Yuuri was right. He needed to trust, he needed to give up control. So as Yuuri’s finger hooked and moved inside him, he could do nothing but writhe and moan helplessly, lost to Yuuri’s touch.

When finally a second finger entered him, Viktor’s neglected cock was achingly hard and leaking pre-cum. As if noticing his desperation, Yuuri leaned down to take his length fully into his mouth.

Viktor almost screamed in pleasure, only barely stopping himself, realizing where they were. The bobbing of Yuuri’s head and the wet warmth from his mouth enveloping him from base to tip had him gasping and whimpering.

His fingers slowly twined themselves into the base of Yuuri’s scalp as yet another finger was inserted inside of him. It was almost too much for Viktor to bear. He felt he could cry from overstimulation, from sheer pleasure.

Yuuri’s diligent fingers continued to work him open, widening him until he was gaping and aching, ready to beg for Yuuri’s cock. All the whole Yuuri continued to lick and suck at the head of Viktor’s shaft, sending shockwaves of delicious pleasure through his entire body. He was close. He was so close. Viktor felt he could explode and die a happy man, but he wanted to come with Yuuri inside him. Was desperate for it.

“Yuuri,” he gasped. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop. I don’t want to...I want to come with you inside me.”

Yuuri’s lips pulled away with an absolutely carnal smack. He nodded seductively, huge brown eyes lust-blown and ravenous. “I want that too.”

Viktor watched as Yuuri coated his rock-solid cock with a substantially thick layer of lube before lining it up with Viktor’s entrance. He was shaking, whether in nervousness or desire, Viktor wasn’t sure.

“Is this ok?” Yuuri asked, his cock circling and pressing against Viktor.

Viktor could only swallow hard and nod, as his hands gripped Yuuri’s waist desperately and tugged him forward.

When Yuuri filled him, it was a feeling unlike anything Viktor had ever experienced. The slow and rhythmic gyrations of Yuuri’s hips as they rocked against him felt like completion, like total vulnerability. And with Yuuri, Viktor felt safe.

He felt tears coming to his eyes as his orgasm crashed over him, and he could tell by the tightness of Yuuri’s grip as he grasped Viktor’s ass, that he was close too. He came inside Viktor only moments later, panting against his neck, his entire body trembling and shaking.

“Thank you, My Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, wrapping Yuuri up in his arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, brushing away the thick black strands of his sweat-soaked hair. “Thank you for letting me trust you. Thank you for being worthy of that trust.”

Yuuri nestled himself into Viktor’s arms, gazing contemplatively up at the ceiling. “You told me...the very first time we had sex...that this...being intimate, it means a lot to you. That you don’t take it lightly.” He paused, finally turning to face Viktor. “I don’t either. Every intimate moment with you is an expression of my love. And I only ever want you to feel loved and respected. And cherished. I love you. So much. You’re everything to me.”

Viktor couldn’t help it, he dissolved into tears, burying his face in Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Viktor! What’s wrong? What did I say? Did I upset you?” Yuuri’s face showed a collage of worry and fear, but Viktor just shook his head.

“No one has ever loved me the way you do, Yuuri. No one has ever...treated me this way. I’m just...so happy. I keep thinking I don’t deserve you. Not really. I never will.”

Yuuri leaned down to wipe the tears from Viktor’s eyes and kiss them away with soft lips. “That’s not true, Vitya. You deserve the world and if I could give it to you, I would.”

“You already have,” Viktor said, meeting Yuuri’s lips with his own and succumbing to the calm and quiet of being fully and deeply unconditionally loved.

 

* * *

 

Their plans were set. They would travel to Paris for the World Championships. They would compete and no matter the outcome, they would travel back to St. Petersburg afterwards for only a few short days to pack up their remaining things and ship them out to their new home in Hasetsu. In only a matter of a few short days, Viktor and Yuuri would officially be moved out of St. Petersburg and officially moved into their new home in Japan.

Viktor wasn’t sure if he had ever been more excited for anything in his entire life.

As Viktor and Yuuri said good-bye to the Katsuki’s and the Nishigori’s, and gave a few extra kisses to Makkachin, Viktor was filled to the brim with hope and joy and excitement. From this moment forward, he would be starting fresh, building a new life and becoming a part of a new family. No more Russia. No more resentment. No more fear.

In Hasetsu, he was not a disappointment. In Hasetsu, he was not an object of resentment and disdain. In Hasetsu, he was a part of a family that loved him and accepted him. That wanted to protect him.

Sitting down next to Yuuri on the plane to Paris, Viktor felt his heart could burst. Nothing could bring him down from here. Nothing could hurt him. Nothing could threaten him or this new life he was striving to build. With Yuuri by his side for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

Standing on the podium, looking _up_ at Yuuri and the gold medal around his neck was one of the proudest and happiest moments of Viktor’s life. His tears of joy trickled down his face to land on the silver medal he wore around his own neck.

In a moment of weakness, he slipped his hand into Yuuri’s, twining his fingers with Yuuri’s fingers. He pressed a kiss to the top of Yuuri’s hand, and when Yuuri looked down at him with tears in his own eyes, Viktor mouthed, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Yuuri mouthed back.

And all was right in the world.

 

* * *

 

Yakov did not scold him for his display of affection towards Yuuri. Instead, he wrapped Viktor in an uncharacteristically warm embrace. “I’m proud of you, Vitya,” he whispered. “You and Katsuki both.”

Viktor felt on top of the world. Safe. Enveloped and protected by the circle of love and kindness in which he had found himself.

And that night, in their hotel room, he leaned down to kiss his future husband, and purred into his ear, “Marry me, Yuuri. When we return to Hasetsu. Once we’ve settled in and made our home. I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to marry you.”

Yuuri nodded, wrapping his hands around the back of Viktor’s neck and pulling him in closer. “Yes.”  He was pliant and responsive to Viktor’s roaming touch, melting into his fingers as they caressed the curves of his body and roved over every inch of his exposed skin. “Yes. I’m yours, Vitya. I want to marry you. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could.”

 

* * *

 

When they arrived in St. Petersburg, Viktor wasn’t afraid. He hadn’t known he had anything to fear. Perhaps that had been foolhardy, foolish, overly optimistic. But the glow of hope that came from the promise of a new life, and the high he was still feeling from seeing his Yuuri standing with a gold medal around his neck, was still coursing through his veins. They arrived with a purpose in mind and would only be staying for a few days...long enough to pack up the rest of their belongings and ship them out to their new home in Hasetsu.

Their apartment was just as they had left it. As Viktor stepped inside, he was overwhelmed by the memories. The bad along with the good.

He could picture himself sitting on his couch with Makkachin, long before Yuuri had come into his life, sobbing into his dog’s warm brown fur. He could clearly remember his own loneliness, his own hopelessness. The feeling that he would be forever lacking. Forever alone.

He could remember sitting on that very same couch, watching Yuuri skate _Aria._ And feeling that something was about to change.

He could still picture the first time Yuuri had stepped inside this apartment. The first time they had slept in this apartment together. He could remember how this apartment had started to feel like _home_ with Yuuri by his side.

“The movers will be here in a day or two to pack up the furniture,” Yuuri said, approaching Viktor and putting an arm around his waist. “Why don’t we start with putting some of the smaller stuff in boxes? We could...start in the _bedroom…_?”

His tone shot straight to Viktor’s groin like a bolt of electricity and he raised an eyebrow suggestively. “The bedroom?”

Yuuri flushed but didn’t back down. “Yea...thought we could start there...work our way through the rest of the apartment?”

Viktor smirked, moving in closer and slipping his arms around Yuuri’s waist. He allowed his fingers to lift the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt and rub circles along the sensitive skin of his lower back. “Is clothing optional?” His voice was low and seductive as he leaned in and lightly grazed his lips over Yuuri’s.

He could feel Yuuri’s body tense underneath his, could hear the subtle hitch of his breath. “Yes,” he whispered in response. “I...I want to make a few more...memories here. Before we leave it behind forever…”

“I like the sound of that,” Viktor’s body was on fire. He pressed a kiss to each of Yuuri’s blushing cheeks, then to the tip of his perfect nose, before finally leaning in to his lips. The heat between them was all-consuming and intense, almost maddeningly so. It was so potent, that even before they had undressed, they were panting and gasping at each other’s lips.

Viktor pushed Yuuri’s body up against the wall of the hallway and moved his hands down Yuuri’s body to capture Yuuri’s wrists and bring them above his head. He mouthed at Yuuri’s neck, sucking a delicious red mark into his soft white skin. As Yuuri squirmed and writhed beneath him, Viktor could feel arousal pulsing through him like an electric current, urging him on.

“I love you,” he moaned into Yuuri’s mouth. “I love you so much.”

The words were like an aphrodisiac to Yuuri who, upon hearing them, began to grind his hips into Viktor’s legs.

They dissolved into each other, then, mussing the covers on the bed they hadn’t used in over a month.

The process of packing became slightly slower than they had anticipated, as distracted as they were by each other. But eventually, the apartment began to feel more and more empty and less and less like home. The memories seemed to fade with the items that were packed away in boxes, with their trinket and their valuables. Knowing that gave Viktor hope. They wouldn’t leave their memories here. The good ones they would take with them. And they would continue to make more.

About 2 hours in, a knock at the door roused them from one of the many “breaks,” they had taken throughout the day. Viktor forced himself to pull away from Yuuri’s kiss-swollen lips, taking in the sight of his beautiful half-naked fiance, wild with lust.

“The movers?” Yuuri asked. “Seems a little early…”

“I’ll get it. You stay right here. Don’t even think about moving,” Viktor grinned, moving in quickly to swipe a lick across Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri squeaked in embarrassment, his cheeks already flushed with color.  

As Viktor moved from the bedroom and down the hall toward the front entryway, the pounding from outside their apartment door intensified in volume and in persistence.

None of Viktor’s senses were firing, his instincts were not screaming against opening the door. Later, he would wonder how his intuition had failed him so unreasonably. But as Viktor’s fingers grasped around the door handle, he didn’t even think to look out the peephole in the door. His body still flowing with arousal and adrenaline, his mind still imagining the heat in Yuuri’s kiss, lost in a fog of naivete.

He wasn’t sure who he had expected, but seeing the person standing on the other side of the door sent a bolt of electric terror up his spine. He stood frozen, his heart racing inside his chest, like a rabbit caught in a predator’s cross hairs. He felt he couldn't’ breathe, couldn’t run, couldn’t call for help, looking into the ice cold ocean colored eyes of Boris Nikiforov. Eyes so like his own...but filled with anger, filled with hate.

 _Run. Run. Run._ Viktor’s mind urged him. _Run. Fucking Run. Move!_

As if wrenched from his own terror, Viktor moved with incredible speed to slam the door back in his father’s face, screaming out for Yuuri. “Yuuri! Grab my phone! Yuuri!” But his father’s arm had blocked the door from closing, his father’s massive, muscular body was prying the door back open with insane force and compulsion.

The blow of the door flying open wide thrust Viktor to the floor on his back. The wind was knocked out from him as Yuuri raced into the room with wild eyes and an expression of horror on his face.

Boris’s eyes locked onto Yuuri then and Viktor panicked. _No. No. No._

“Yuuri, run! Get out of here! Run!” As Boris raced toward Yuuri, Viktor used every ounce of his strength to lock himself onto his father’s ankle, to hold him back from getting to Yuuri. Before he was able to anticipate it, Boris’s boot connected with Viktor’s skull, blacking his vision and knocking him into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Viktor awoke to someone slapping his cheek with an open hand, hard, vehement strokes that were meant to wound. “Wake up, you piece of shit!” That voice in his ear sent waves of panic through him. _Where is Yuuri? Where is Yuuri. Oh god, Yuuri._

As Viktor opened his eyes, he felt sick to his stomach. Lying in an unmoving pile in front of him was Yuuri’s unconscious body. His glasses were broken and strewn away from him and his face was bloodied and beaten. _He isn’t moving. Oh god, is he breathing? Please let him be breathing!_

Viktor himself was being pressed up against the wall with one strong hand around his neck. It was a tight grip, but not cutting off his air supply. But it was meant as a threat and Viktor knew it.

Boris Nikiforov was glaring into his eyes with a look of rage and disgust. “Long time, no see, kiddo. That your little boyfriend over there?” He nodded his head toward Yuuri’s broken and unmoving form and Viktor stayed silent, stubborn and defiant. He started back at his father with his own hate, his own anger.

Again, the hand smacked across his cheek, causing him to bite down hard on his own tongue. He could taste the blood like sour iron in his mouth.

“I _said,_ is that your little boyfriend? You fucking disgusting piece of trash?”

“What did you do to him? “ Viktor gasped and Boris smirked, showing a row of yellowed teeth.

Looking at his father, Viktor recognized features similar to his own. High cheekbones, turquoise eyes, even the shining silver hair. But this man wore the lines of age and anger and resentment. He wore the years of his jail sentence in the lines that marred his face, in the animosity and bitterness he directed at his only son.

“Roughed him up a little bit,” Boris’s voice was deep and low. “My business isn’t with him.”

Viktor’s mind was racing as panic began to vibrate through his bones. “What do you want?” His voice was shaking as it burbled from his lips.

Boris scoffed, moving his hand from Viktor’s throat to cup his cheek, to look into his face...his face that was surely a reflection of Boris’s own...a reflection of what he had been so long ago. “You really don’t know, do you? You pathetic little creep. You ruined me. Your very existence in his world...from the very beginning…”

“What are you talking about - ?” Viktor’s voice was stolen from his lungs as Boris wound back and forced his fist straight into Viktor’s stomach, doubling him over and knocking him to his knees.

“I didn’t ever want you! You were a thorn in my side since you were born. And then, your momma decided to put flowers in your hair and throw glitter on your face...how do you think that made me feel, hmm? You’ve never been my child. You were a burden and a constant reminder of a life I never wanted.” Boris grabbed a fistful of Viktor’s hair to force Viktor’s face to meet his own. “Do you know what they did to me in prison? Do you know what they said?”

A singular tear fell unbidden from Viktor’s eye and Boris thrust him backwards against the wall, releasing the fist full of Viktor’s silver hair.

“You look just like that _little figure skate_ r, they said. That feminine little figure skater that _likes boys_ , they said. And do you know what they did to me? What they did to me because of _you_?”

Viktor scrambled to get away from his father, to move towards Yuuri’s still unconscious form, but Boris grabbed the collar of his shirt and threw him back with a heaving thud.

“I had nothing. I was disgraced. Because of you. You know that, boy? You know the shame and dishonor you’ve brought on me? On this family?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Viktor cried. “Not everything I’ve done has been to bring shame on you! Is it so horrible that I’ve made a name for myself? That I’m finally happy?”

A boot shot forward to knock Viktor back to the floor, gasping in pain. Where was his phone? He had to get to his phone.

“You don’t get to be happy, you piece of shit! You don’t deserve to be happy when you’ve made your own father’s life a living hell! Do you know how people used to look at me? Do you know what they used to say? Well, do you?” Boris’s face was pulled into a grimace, the hard lines of his face deeply etched into his graying skin.

A fist to Viktor’s face had him gasping and choking out blood.

“And now, you’re standing in front of the whole world and flaunting your unnatural predilections. No one wants to see that. Fucking no one. You’re disgusting. You’re shameful.” Boris’s fingers were again twined in the thick strands of Viktor’s scalp. It might almost be like a lover’s hand, but for the harshness, the tearing and violent pulling, as Boris used Viktor’s hair to throw him back up against the wall behind him.

“I should have made your momma end you before you were even born. Would have saved me a lot of time and effort and grief.”

Viktor choked out a sob as blood covered his lips. “You...you’re really going to kill your own son? You’ll go back to jail. You won’t get away with it. I’m well-known by the public - !”

“Well-known as a faggot fairy princess, you mean. And I’m not afraid of jail. I’ll gladly go back if it means I never have to think about you...ever again.”

“But you will,” Viktor spat. “You will think about me. You’ll think about the son you killed. The son who looked just like you.”

“You’re no son of mine,” Boris growled, bringing his face close to Viktor’s, so close that Viktor could smell the rot of his breath, the decay of a dead man standing on two feet.

At that moment, the door to the apartment opened and a tall, slim figure entered. As the man shrugged out of the dark hooded sweatshirt he was wearing, Viktor’s eyes widened.

“Max! Max! Help! Get help! Call Yakov!” For a moment, Viktor dared himself to hope that perhaps they had been saved. Max had saved him before. Max would know what to do. But, in horror, Viktor watched as Max’s lips pulled into a smirk.

“Not this time, Vitya,” he said. “I’m afraid this time, a lesson needs to be learned.”

“What the fuck took you so long?” Boris growled, looking at Max with harried and narrowed eyes.

And then, the air left Viktor’s lungs. _No. No. No. No._

“You?” He choked out, his eyes only for Max. “You...brought him here?”

“Delivered a little note for me a while back too, if memory serves…” Boris crossed his arms over his chest as he assessed Viktor’s scrambling, desperate form.

“Why...why?” Viktor felt panic again weighing him down, drowning him. “Max...why? When?”

“Don’t think you’re in a position to be asking questions right now, princess,” Boris grabbed both of Viktor’s wrists in his hands and pulled them behind him back while Viktor fought and kicked with all his strength. Boris turned to look at Max. “You going to help me with him, then?”

Max nodded, moving in closer and helping to bind Viktor’s hands together, helping to force him over the back of the couch.

Viktor couldn’t help the tears of desperation. “Please...Max...please…” he gasped and sobbed, but Boris slapped him hard across the face, silencing him.

“Alright, now we just have to make it look like a murder-suicide. Make it look like the little one shot Viktor and then himself in a jealous rage,” Boris said lowly, his eyes darting over to where Yuuri was still sprawled on the floor, bleeding but breathing.

Desperation then overtook Vitkor. “No. No, please. Please don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt Yuuri. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything you want. I promise.” His eyes locked into Max’s imploring him, begging him. “Please, Max. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, ok? Please. Please don’t hurt Yuuri. _Please_.”

“Shut up your fucking mouth! I’m so sick of hearing your impetuous voice!” Boris growled.

Viktor was sobbing now, incoherent, messy and wet. It couldn’t end like this. It wouldn't end like this. Not when they had so much to lose, so much life ahead of them.

He could hear Boris cocking a gun, could feel the cold steel pressing up against his temple.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment for a long fucking time. Good-bye _Viktor_.”

And the gun went off, loud and echoing through the apartment, reverberating through the walls and the floorboards. But Viktor was...still alive. His eyes were wide and a choked sob escaped his throat as Boris Nikiforov collapsed into a bleeding mass of limbs on the floor. Dead.

The revolver that had been in his hand fell to the floor, bounced under the couch and out of view and Viktor caught his breath, immobilized, mortified.

Viktor wheezed and sobbed, shaking and rocking back and forth. What had happened? What had happened? And then he felt Max’s hand in his hair, heard Max’s voice in his ear.

“I did it, Vikor. I did it. I did it for you. I saved you. Now you’ll never have to fear him again. His shadow will never haunt you again.”

Viktor shook his head in disbelief. “What? What are you talking about?” Tears were flowing freely from his eyes now.

“Shh…” Max moved in closer and wiped the tears from Viktor’s eyes. “It’s ok. It’s all ok now. See? I saved you again. This is what I’ll do for you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always keep you safe.”

“But...you brought him here!” Viktor snarled, pulling away with vehemence and disgust. “You fucking brought him here!”

“I had to…” Max nodded. “You had to be made to fear, to see what could befall you if I wasn’t here to protect you. But now you’ve seen the depth of my love for you. You’ve seen exactly the lengths I’ll go for you.”

“No. No. No. No. This is wrong. You’re sick,” Viktor gasped, tugging at his bound hands and thrashing where he was still bent over couch. “Let me go. Untie me.”

“Now, Viktor. Didn’t you just say you would do whatever I wanted? Weren’t you just begging me to help you? To protect you from your big, bad daddy?” He was leaning over Viktor’s ear, whispering the words breathily. “Did I not protect you well enough? Hmm? Did I not do exactly what you wanted?”

Viktor couldn’t breathe. He struggled against Max’s hands as they roved up his back and over the curves of his ass. “Stop!” he growled. “Max, let me go! Please!”

“Ahh, now you say please?” Max was standing now, moving back behind Viktor, where he was bent over the couch.

_No. No. No. No._

Max kicked his legs apart, slipping his fingers inside the waistband of Viktor’s sweatpants. Viktor gasped, his eyes widening as he succumbed to that touch, to the finality of what was about to happen...again. “Max, please,” he choked. “Please...stop.”

“Let him go!”

Viktor’s throat tightened and his heart fluttered hearing _that_ voice. He dared himself to turn his eyes to look, and was rewarded with the sight of Yuuri standing up on trembling legs. His nose was bleeding and his glasses were cracked and crooked where they sat upon his face. But he was alive. He was ok.

“Yuuri!” Viktor cried out. “Yuuri, get out of here! Go! Run!”

His heart was leaping for joy inside his chest. Yuuri was ok. He was alive. He was going to be ok. Nothing else mattered.

Then, without warning, Yuuri was hurtling his body at Max, throwing his full weight into his attack. He leapt onto Max’s back and wrapped an arm around Max’s neck, ripping him away from Viktor. As Max and Yuuri both tumbled backwards to the floor in a mass of kicking and writhing limbs, Max lost hold of the gun in his hand, and it skidded across the floor, out of reach.

“You piece of shit!” Max was screaming as he thrashed and writhed on the floor, attempting to get free from Yuuri’s grasp.

“Yuuri!” Viktor scrambled to lift himself off the couch, to help in whatever way he could. But his hands still bound behind his back, there was little he could do.

“Get your phone, Viktor!” Yuuri bellowed, struggling to keep Max’s neck locked in his grasp.

Viktor didn’t waste time. He ran towards the bedroom, hearing Max screaming behind him. As Viktor glanced back, he saw Max thrust his head back to slam into Yuuri’s face, knocking his glasses from his nose. Then, while Yuuri was gasping and his grasp on Max’s neck was failing, Max slammed his elbow back into Yuuri’s face as well. And Yuuri’s grip gave out. And Max was again racing toward the gun that had been abandoned on the floor.

“His gun,” Viktor gasped. “Yuuri, Boris’s gun is under the couch!”

Max paused, glaring at Viktor with hooded green eyes. And then both Yuuri and Max were leaping towards the couch, thrusting their hands underneath. Viktor ran into the bedroom, his breath in his throat. He had to get his phone, had to get his phone, had to get his phone. _Oh god, please let Yuuri be ok. Please let Yuuri be ok._

Viktor’s phone was sitting on the unmade bed. With his hands still bound, he desperately made to unlock the screen, to press the “Panic” button. As his fingers grazed the screen, Viktor heard it.

A gunshot. A body hitting the floor. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that was really mean of me. I'm sorrrrry. Don't hate me. 
> 
> Yuuri is a BA and the Viktuuri love is so so pure. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I have so much love for all of you! Muah!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's come to an end! I can't believe it!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who followed this story and liked, and commented and bookmarked! I appreciate your support and have loved connecting with you!
> 
> I hope this ending gives resolution and that you enjoy it!   
> Please let me know what you think!

Yuuri had seen red. He had never moved so fast in his entire life. The feel of the gun in his hands hadn’t registered. The power and deadliness of the weapon between his fingers hadn’t registered. He hadn’t had time to think about it. With Max bearing down, all Yuuri could do was aim and pull the trigger. 

As Max’s bleeding body had slumped to the floor in front of him, Yuuri still hadn’t felt anything. His body had been tingling, his mind had been numb. As blood had pooled around Max’s chest, as Viktor had emerged from the bedroom with wide eyes, Yuuri had remained unmoving, his breath barely coming, his heart barely beating. 

Even has Viktor had wrapped him up in his arms, sobbing and holding him, rocking back and forth, stroking his hair, Yuuri had felt nothing. 

It was only hours later, surrounded by the dozens of police officers swarming their apartment, that the reality of the situation had hit him. 

Maxim Volkov was dead. And it had been at Yuuri’s hand. 

He had done it to protect himself. To protect Viktor. But he had still done it. He had pulled the trigger without hesitation. He had taken a life. 

But, as Viktor had wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck, Yuuri realized he would do it again if the circumstances required it.  He would do it over and over and over again if it meant protecting this man. This beautiful, kind, innocent, trusting man. This man who deserved the entire world. This man who deserved to live without fear. 

As the Police had walked around the apartment, digging into the personal effects of their attackers, Max’s plan had come to light. Max’s phone records had revealed that he had contacted Boris long before Viktor had even left to become Yuuri’s coach. He had gained Boris’s trust, given him access to Viktor’s whereabouts. And had promised to help him fulfil his mission, to kill Viktor. 

It had all been a ploy. Max had planned to betray Boris all along. To kill him and win back Viktor’s love. As he had already done once before. And though Yuuri hated Max with everything he had, part of him felt for him, felt for the man who had loved and not been loved in return. 

Max had been sick, that much was certain. He had been a victim of his own illness, a captive of his own dark obsession. At the end of the day, he had been a man scorned for being himself, a little boy who had been abandoned by his family. He had faced similar circumstances and hardships to Viktor, circumstances and hardships that Yuuri would never be able to understand. And though Yuuri would never forgive Max for what he had done, he felt sorry for him as well. 

But with Viktor’s hand in his, and Viktor’s bruised and battered face smiling down into his own, Yuuri could not regret any action he had taken. He had not been wrong. His hand had been forced unfairly. But now, their life could move forward. They would be safe. They could finally live free from fear and threat. 

As Viktor had pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek and had held onto him with trembling limbs, Yuuri had known. He would protect this...what they had...with all the strength he possessed. For the rest of his life, he would fiercely protect and cherish this love as if it was something precious. Because it was. It truly, truly was. 

 

* * *

 

The gentle spring breeze of the Barcelona evening felt good on Yuuri’s sweaty forehead. His hands were shaking, though he didn’t really feel afraid. He was more...nervous? Perhaps that wasn’t the right word either. No one word seemed to be able to really sum up how he felt at this particular moment. 

He pulled his hands from the pockets of his tight fitting black suit pants to adjust his black silk tie, to brush off the pristine black suit jacket, to smooth a hand over his slicked-back hair. 

“Yuuri! Are you ready? It’s time to go.” Yuuri turned to see Phichit standing just on the near side of the bridge that separated him from his future. The smile on Phichit’s face calmed Yuuri’s nerves as he took his friend’s extended hand. 

“I’ve never been more ready,” he said with a soft smile. 

The garden through which they wandered slowly was filled with lush green and newly bloomed cherry blossom trees. Every gust of the cool wind brought petals drifting through the air like bursts of aromatic confetti to greet them as they walked. It was perfectly beautiful, calm and still and it centered his mind and soothed his pounding heart. 

As they entered an open grove surrounded on all sides by trees in bloom, they were greeted by the smiling faces of friends and loved ones seated in rows upon rows of brightly painted wooden chairs. The rows were segregated in the center by a long aisle that led up to a beautiful and fragrant archway, decorated with vines and sprigs of baby's breath. In the center of the archway, behind a podium constructed of wood and decorated with curling vines flowers, stood Yakov, dressed in a smart black suit and bow tie. Instead of his usual grimace, today he wore an actual smile, his cheeks flushed and his chest puffed out in pride. 

Phichit stood by Yuuri’s side as they made their way up that aisle towards Yakov. And through Yuuri’s hands were shaking, he realized he had never been more excited for anything else in his entire life. As Yuuri took his spot to Yakov’s right, Phichit fell in beside him, giving him a gentle and encouraging squeeze on his shoulder. He was only moments away from his future.  

And, after several long moments of waiting, Yurio moved up the aisle as well, with Viktor by his side. 

Yuuri caught his breath seeing his fiance dressed in a sharp black suit that mirrored his own. A black bowtie similar to Yakov’s was pulled tight to his throat and his ocean-colored eyes were glimmering with tears as he drew nearer and nearer with only Yuuri locked in his sights. 

As Yurio took his spot to Viktor’s left, and Viktor came to stand beside Yuuri, he mouthed, “I love you.” And Yuuri’s heart burst into flames of joy. Viktor reached out and twined his fingers with Yuuri’s, a coy smile playing at his lips. As they turned to face one another, all the faces in the crowd faded away and it was only them, only them enjoying this moment, enjoying the beauty of their surroundings and the beauty of the love they had found in each other. 

Yakov began to speak then, in English, so everyone could understand. And Yuuri’s heart ached at his words. 

“Today, we gather here as friends to witness the union of Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri. As they join their lives together as one, we stand beside them as friends and family members to honor the love they share and assist them as they grow together, never to part. 

“As a child, Viktor was willful and stubborn. He was determined to make a name for himself and become something bigger than those who would doubt him thought him capable. Viktor devoted his life to skating. But slowly, I saw a loneliness develop in Viktor. And for the longest time, it seemed Viktor had neglected the most human elements of being alive. He had neglected life and love. And in doing so, Viktor began to lose his purpose, he began to lose his drive and his motivation. 

“Until one day, he came across a video of a young Japanese boy skating his program. And Viktor Nikiforov left Russia. And he left his skating career and his disgruntled coach. All to rekindle his passion for life and to reignite the flames of his love. 

“In loving Katsuki Yuuri, I have never seen Viktor so happy. I have never seen Viktor more alive. Being human, I believe we grow up searching for the other halves to our souls. Sometimes, we can go on searching forever. But there is a longing within us to find the one to whom our soul has been tied. In these two, I am proud to say I can see that tie. 

“Vitya, Yuuri, I may not be the easiest person to understand, nor the fastest to give a kind word. But I believe in this love you share. And I will, as a part of your family, continue to support this union and to protect the love you have for one another. I give my blessing and I hope that today, we can all join together to give our blessings to you. 

“I now invite you to share the vows you have written for one another. Viktor?”

Yuuri loved seeing the faint blush spread over Viktor’s porcelain cheeks as he reached into his lapel pocket and withdrew a folded and worn piece of paper. As he unravelled it, Yuuri could see his hands trembling. But his smile never faded. 

“My Yuuri,” he began, his eyes shimmering with tears. “The first time I saw you dance, I felt I needed to get closer to you, to know you more deeply, to understand you more fully. There is a beauty and a strength in you that I have never before seen. You intrigue me. You excite me. You make me so happy. You make me want to be a better man than I’ve ever thought myself capable of being. I wish you could see yourself as I see you, My Yuuri. I wish you could see how exquisite you are. You’re brave and you’re kind. You’re stubborn and you’re strong. You’re so giving and so compassionate and you make everyone around you better for having been in your presence. You’re my motivation. You’re my everything.

“To you, I vow, I will always fight for this. I vow to never give up. I vow to love you when you feel weak and always push you to feel strong. I vow to always show you just how special you are, to believe in you when you can’t believe in yourself. I vow to protect your heart with my life, to stay true and devoted to only you for the rest of my life. I vow, that through all things, both good and bad, through trials and tribulations, through sickness and health, through competitions and retirement, I will stand by your side. And I will be proud to have you as my husband. Because you, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, are truly beautiful. Inside and out. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m honored to be your husband. I love you. I’ll love you forever.”

Yuuri’s heart fluttered in his chest, knowing it was his turn to speak. He focused on Viktor’s shining blue eyes, on his gentle smile, on the feel of Viktor’s hand in his. “Vitya,” his voice was shaking as it came from his lips. “Before I met you, you were my idol. All my life, I dreamed of what it would be like just to share the ice with you. After you showed up in Hasetsu, I was terrified of you...terrified of pushing you away or of embarrassing myself in front of you. Because to me, you were still that untouchable figure skating legend, immune to criticism, world’s above me in every way. But, getting to know you, I realized...you’re human. You have fears and insecurities. Imperfections. And Viktor...I love every single thing about you. I love all your flaws...just as much as your strengths. Because they make you you. And I love you more than anything in this world. You’ve shown me a love I could never have imagined existed. 

“I vow to you, Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, to love you fully and completely and to be yours alone for the rest of my life. I vow to honor you and cherish you and make you proud. I vow to love every aspect of you, even when things get hard. I vow to protect you and never let you come to harm. As long as I am around, no harsh word will ever be spoken against you. This I vow to you. 

“I vow to always be your biggest supporter, your number one fan. I’ll gladly be the president of your fan club. Because I trust you, Viktor. I trust that at the end of the day, what we have is so much bigger than skating. It’s forever. It’s unshakeable. It will surpass competitions and retirements. It will outlast us. It will always endure.

“I love you, Vitya. I always will.”

Viktor was openly crying now, using a handkerchief to blot away the tears that fell from his eyes. “I love you, My Yuuri,” he whispered. 

As Yakov finished the ceremony, Yuuri was unable take his eyes off Viktor. And when Yakov directed them to take their first kiss, Yuuri crashed into Viktor like a meteor crashing to earth, desperate and chaotic and all-consuming. He could taste Viktor’s smile in that kiss, their mutual joy seeping in-between them and pulling them, if possible, closer together.

“It’s my pleasure to present to you, Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.” 

Cheers erupted around them, but still they did not retreat from each other’s arms, instead gazing lovingly at each other and bursting into laughter.. So rapturous was the moment, so filled with joy and merriment. So filled with love. 

In that moment, all their trials and tribulations were forgotten. Boris Nikiforov and Maxim Volkov were forgotten and replaced by the love and affection with which they were now gifted. 

Minako Sensei was laughing with cheeks flushed pink from drink. The Nishigori’s were cheering and throwing cherry blossom petals in the air like confetti. 

Phichit was snapping picture after picture with a huge smile on his face, documenting every special moment online. 

Even Yurio seemed to be enjoying himself, a slight smile playing at his thin lips. 

Yakov was beaming. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he had ever seen the old Russian man look so cheerful. So content. With Lilia by his side, and his hand around her waist, Yakov seemed truly, blissfully happy. 

Yuuri’s parents were glowing with pride. How had he been so lucky to have been blessed with parents who, despite the culture in which they had been raised, were so supportive of their son? They always had been. They had supported him and loved him and never been disappointed in his choices. As he and Viktor wandered over to them, hand-in-hand, both Hiroko and Toshiya moved in to wrap their two sons in a warm embrace. 

“Welcome to the family, Viktor,” Hiroko purred and Yuuri felt he could burst into tears. With Viktor by his side, he had found everything for which he had been searching his entire life. He was endlessly thankful for his family, for their unconditional love and support. For the way they welcomed Viktor without hesitation or question. And the tears in Viktor’s eyes solidified that thankfulness. 

“I’m honored to be a part of it,” he whispered, holding Yuuri’s hand tightly in his own. 

Dance after dance and drink after drink, the merriment persisted well into the night. Congratulations were thrown their way, as well as well-wishes. And by the time their guests finally started to make their way back to the hotel rooms that had been reserved for them, Yuuri was exhausted, completely depleted and filled to the brim with love. 

Viktor pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “Don’t think you’re going to sleep once we get back to that hotel room,” he whispered seductively. “I fully intend to  _ thoroughly  _ consummate this marriage before the sun rises...or perhaps  _ until  _ the sun rises…”

And just like that, Yuuri was wide awake. 

That night, after a round of passionate love-making, Yuuri found himself entangled naked in the blankets, wrapped up in his  _ husband’s  _ loving embrace. Content. Happy. Complete.

“Do you have any regrets, My Yuuri? Is there anything you would change about...the way things happened?” Viktor was looking at him with large and imploring eyes, as if all at once, in the void left by the merriment’s cessation, the weight of what they had done had come crashing down on him. 

Yuuri smiled softly, leaning into the crook of Viktor’s arm.  “I don’t regret any of it, Vitya. Because it led us to this point.”

“None of it? Not even…?”

Yuuri knew what he was going to say.  _ Not even Max? Not even my father? Not even what they did to us? Not even what  _ we  _ did to  _ them _? _

Perhaps there was a part of Yuuri that did regret. Regret losing some of the innocence with which he had previously viewed the world. Before Boris Nikiforov, before Maxim Volkov, Yuuri had seen the world as a kind and accepting place. Friends like Phichit and Minako and Yuuko had always been so welcoming and accepting of who he was. But now he knew, the rest of the world would not always be so kind. They needed to be able to protect themselves. They needed to be able to protect each other. They could no longer live ignorant of the hatred that existed in the world. But that didn’t mean they had to forget about the beauty. In fact, in contrast to the darkness in the world, the light, the goodness, stood out like something truly glorious, something to be cherished. 

It had been months since Yuuri had pulled that trigger and ended Maxim Volkov’s life. Months of dealing with the repercussions and finally deciding to focus instead on the good of what had happened.On the life he had ahead of him with the man he loved. With his soulmate. 

So, he couldn’t regret it. Because here and now, everything that had happened, was the reason they were safe. The reason they were now married, wrapped in each other’s arms. The reason they were free to love without fear. 

Yuuri lifted his hand to caress the softness of Viktor’s cheek. “Not even that,” Yuuri said. “I don’t regret protecting you, Vitya. I never will.” He paused for a moment, noting the far-off and dreamy look that had come to occupy his husband’s features. “Do  _ you  _ have regrets?”

Viktor had lost so much more than Yuuri had. He had lost his father...the man who had perhaps never loved him, and now would never get the chance. He had lost his former friend and lover...the man who had raped him, stalked him and even tried to kill him, but who had also once saved his life. 

But Viktor had been strong and stoic concerning their deaths. Instead, he had seemed, perhaps, more confident, more self-assured and positive, since Boris and Max were no longer looming presences in his life. 

“I regret only that you had to go through all of it. That you had to be the one to…”

“I had to do what was necessary to protect my family,” Yuuri said without hesitation and Viktor paused a moment before smiling. “You’re my family, Viktor. I’ll always protect you.”

“I love you,” Viktor whispered, pulling Yuuri close and pressing a deep and lingering kiss to his lips. “I love you so much, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

“And I love you, Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

Viktor chuckled. “We really are a bunch of cheesy old men, aren’t we?”

“Cheesy, yes. But we’re not old yet. You have at least another five years of skating in you,” Yuuri smirked. 

“Oh, _do_ I?”

“You have to fight back, don’t you? Have to win back your World title. Or are you just going to let me skate off with the title and your dignity too?  _ Old man?”  _ Yuuri quirked an eyebrow, aiming right for Viktor’s pride and being more than satisfied when Viktor responded with an offended gasp. 

“That was a hit below the belt, my Yuuri!”

“Then come at me, Vitya.”

Viktor pulled himself forcibly from Yuuri’s arms to climb on top of him and straddle his waist. He took one of Yuuri’s wrists in either of his hands, pinning them back to the bed as he peered down into Yuuri’s flushed face with a playful smile. “You know...I think I  _ would  _ like to win World’s one more time...but this time as Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

“You can try,” Yuuri whispered, bucking his hips under Viktor. “But Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov won’t be going down without a fight.”

“Mmm...Glad to hear it.” As Viktor moved in to take Yuuri’s lips in his own, Yuuri sighed in contentment.  With Viktor, he had it all. Mania, eros, agape, all rolled into one. For the rest of his life, he would want for nothing. 

They had already conquered so much. He knew it wouldn’t always be easy, but with Viktor by his side, he felt complete. Strong. Confident. 

That night, as they settled down to sleep in each other’s arms, Yuuri chanced one more glance at his husband. His  _ husband.  _ It had all been worth it. 

“I love you,” he whispered before drifting into a dreamless, golden slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big thing for me here was that I didn't want these two to be bogged down with regrets over what happened. What happened made them stronger, brought them closer together and made them realize that even though the world can be a dark and cruel place, there is still so much love and kindness. Life and love are worth fighting for. 
> 
> Yuuri grew through what happened. He had to make a horrible choice but inevitably, he would make it again. Because even though it was hard, it saved the man he loves. At the beginning of this story, he's uncertain and riddled with anxiety. But by the end, he's so strong in his relationship and so strong in knowing what he himself is capable of. 
> 
> I hope this all makes sense and I hope it gave you all the resolution and the feels you were looking for!  
> Thank you again for your love and support!   
> Cheers to Ice Adolescence and Season 2!
> 
> See you Next Level!

**Author's Note:**

> We're moving! I can't wait to really get into the nitty gritty of this beast.  
>  
> 
> Comments feed my soul. If you liked, please let me know.


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